Never Too Late
by Hughnatic
Summary: House's world is turned upside down after reading Cameron's very unconventional resignation letter. After the events of Human Error, Cameron left PPTH and found a new life. Rated M for language and sexual scenes.
1. Prologue

**PROLOGUE**

May 29th, 2007

Dr. House:

This letter is to inform you that I will be resigning from my position on your staff as of June 1st. I want to thank you not only for the opportunity to work with you for 3 years, but also for your instruction and guidance. If there is anything I can do to ease the transition, please let me know.

Now, since the fact that you're actually reading this letter instead of throwing it away unopened means that you are interested in what I have to say, here is my real letter of resignation. You are rude, arrogant, abrasive, hurtful and damaged. You look for the worst in people and don't care what they think of you. But you are not insensitive. You keep the world at a distance because you are afraid. Despite what you may tell yourself, I have not been in love with you for 3 years because you are damaged. I did not marry my husband because he was sick. Ironic that the brilliant diagnostician never even considered the fact that these events were symptoms of two unrelated illnesses. My marriage to my husband was for him, to ease his last year by giving myself to him. I married him so he wouldn't be alone, so that he could die knowing that someone cared. My love for you is for me. There is nothing selfless or noble about what I feel for you, it is simply a fact, a freak occurrence that blindsided me as much as it did you. I've never loved you despite your faults, and I've never loved you for what you could be. I love you for everything you are right now, at this moment. You constantly amaze me. You are brilliant on or off drugs. You are sexy with or without your cane. You are obnoxious whether or not you are in pain. These attributes are you, and it is you that I wanted. What I see in you is not a sick puppy that needs to be nursed back to health. I've never wanted to heal you. I wanted to be loved by you. For a time, I was convinced that you wanted to love me too, and later I felt convinced that you never would. I don't know anymore, but I've realized that it doesn't matter. No matter how you feel about me, you aren't going to give me what I need. What I have with Chase is nothing, but I have to take the chance that it could be something. The way I see it, I can either have nothing with him but have someone who cares, or I can have nothing with you and be alone. For the first time in my life, I feel what you feel everyday: the certainty that what I am doing is right. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. Thank you for making me a better doctor. Thank you for the occasional glimpse into your heart. Thank you for pushing me to develop opinions and stand behind them. Thank you for giving me the strength to write this letter and take this action. If it weren't for you, I would never have been able to leave.

Sincerely,  
Allison Cameron

P.S. It will never be too late.


	2. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER 1**

Exhausted, but enjoying the high of victory, Gregory House felt like he was flying. After a week of dealing with the case from hell, complete with wrong turns, dangerous treatments, cardiac arrests, manipulating family members, and one or two small breaches of ethics, he felt a calm relief as he looked through the dew-covered visor of his helmet to watch the sun rise over the deserted road. Between the silence of the hour and the blur of fatigue, every sound was amplified—the birds chirping, the occasional car speeding down the street, his key entering the lock, and the satisfying squeak of his door as he opened it and walked into his apartment, so close to his bed he could taste it. If he went to bed now he could still get 5 hours of sleep before he had to be up for work again. He threw his backpack on a chair and walked past a snoring Wilson, sleeping on his couch after being locked out of his house after a fight with wife #4. House undressed and got into the shower, the water beating down on his chest, massaging his aching leg, and washing away the anxiety of the past 6 days. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he stepped out of the shower, brushed his teeth, and took a moment to examine his face in the mirror. Letting the towel fall to the floor, he threw on his t-shirt and striped drawstring pants, popped a vicodin in his mouth, and fell asleep as soon as he climbed under the covers.

House jolted awake at the screaming of his alarm. Damn, 10:30 already. He heard the familiar pop as he flicked the cap off the bottle of vicodin and downed his first pill of the day. He limped out into his living room without his cane and rolled his eyes at the sight of the dusted bookcases and newly vacuumed floor. Yep, Wilson had definitely been there. He made his way toward the kitchen and filled a glass of water from his sink, now emptied of the dishes that had been piling up for a week. As he gulped down his drink, he saw a note scrawled on a napkin and stuck to the refrigerator. It read, "We need to talk. P.S. Pancakes are in the fridge."


	3. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2**

As much as he hated clinic duty, House was grateful for the excuse to avoid Wilson, for a little while at least. He had no clue what Wilson wanted to talk to him about, but that note could only mean one thing: one of Wilson's famous self-righteous lectures. He had managed to avoid him at the cafeteria, but winced as Wilson caught sight of him as he stepped off the elevator on the way to his office. He pretended not to see him and walked quickly toward the refuge of his office.

"House!" Wilson called as he jogged to meet up with his friend.

House sighed before he turned around and said, "Sorry, didn't see you there. Wish I could chat, but I'm on the clock, and it would be irresponsible to waste the hospital's money gossiping." Pushing open his office door, he yelled behind him, "Gotta get back to work." He left Wilson standing in the hall with his hands on his hips, staring disapprovingly as House drew the blinds in his office.

House was waiting for his computer to boot up when he heard someone banging on the glass door that led out to his balcony. He rolled his eyes as he swiveled in his chair and yelled through the glass, "Quit stalking me! No means no!"

"House, let me in. I'm serious."

It was pointless to argue. As annoying as Wilson could be when he's lecturing, he knew it was better to get it over with, or else he'd be harassing him all day. He slid his chair to the door and opened it a crack. "What's the secret password?"

"House, come on. Just let me in."

"Hey, I don't make up the rules. Can't let you in till you—" House was cut off by Wilson pushing the door open and walking past House until he turned to face him at the front of his desk. He stood there for a moment with what House perceived to be a slightly condescending stare.

"So, did you barge in here to talk, or just so we can have a staring contest? I feel it's only fair to warn you, I have never lost a staring contest."

Wilson reached into the pocket of his shirt and pulled out an envelope. Without a word, he dropped it down on House's desk. House suspiciously searched Wilson's eyes for a moment before he looked down to see something that made his stomach drop.

"Where did you find this?"

"Bookcase. It was hidden underneath a row of books."

"What were you doing going through my stuff?" House asked defensively, grabbing the envelope and shoving it possessively into the breast pocket of his jacket.

"Dusting-- your place is a pigsty. You wanna explain this?"

"There's nothing to explain. I guess I forgot to throw it away."

"Oh, come on! You didn't forget anything. You know that handwriting as well as I do. It's from Cameron."

House was surprised to find himself a little thrown at the sound of her name, which he hadn't heard spoken aloud in, what, three, four years?

"How long have you had this?"

House stared down at the floor for a moment, before looking somewhere past Wilson and said, "Since the day she left. It's her resignation letter."

"It's… never been opened."

"So? What difference does it make? She resigned. She left. She's gone. End of story."

"End of story. Huh. Yes, well clearly you've put it all behind you. Oh, except the part where you have been saving the last letter she wrote you for the last 5 years."

"Six. Now get out of my office."

After a brief confrontational stare, Wilson shrugged and walked toward the front door of House's office. He looked back at him one more time before pushing it open and walking into the bustling hallway. House stared behind him as he disappeared into the crowd. The venetian blinds rattled as the door eased closed, and House popped a vicodin as he reached into his pocket and pulled out the unopened envelope. He looked at it for a moment, reading and rereading the one word on it, his name, scrawled in her familiar script. He leaned back in his chair and stared off into space, deep in thought, as he sat turning the letter over and over again in his hands.


	4. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER 3**

There was a chill in the air on the roof of the hospital, and House was enjoying the mild sting of a crisp breeze against his face. He leaned far over the cement wall, hypnotized by the view below. He isolated his gaze to everything stationary: the trees, the benches, the sidewalks, grass, pillars, parking lot. When he stared very hard, the geometric designs and subtle differences in color and texture that made up the landscape of his bird's eye view revealed themselves to him in greater and greater detail. Objects in motion—cars pulling up the drive to pick up the people waiting on the benches, small groups of hospital employees heading to their cars at the end of their shifts, the occasional wail of a siren—seemed transparent to him as they crept in and faded out of his consciousness as he swallowed himself up in his own reverie.

Twilight was giving way to darkness when he pushed himself away from the wall and paced lazily around the perimeter of the roof. When he reached his starting point again, he slid down to the ground, leaning against the wall, his right leg outstretched and his left drawn up to his chest. He hooked his cane around one of the straps on his backpack and slid it towards him. He unzipped the front pocket and pulled out the familiar envelope. He often took it out from its hiding place on his bookcase when he was alone. He would set it on top of his piano and stare at it as his long fingers gracefully caressed the keys. There were nights spent in a haze of scotch and vicodin with the envelope on his lap and monster trucks on tv. He knew the weight, the texture, the color, the sound, and the smell of the object as intimately as he knew the strings on his guitar. It had elevated in his mind as a mysterious, almost supernatural treasure that was not to be tampered with. He often wondered why. He had long since admitted to himself that he was, at one point, in love with her. But what did that matter? What had changed? The core elements of his life, the normalcy and consistency he secretly relied upon to shelter himself from outside elements, were all the same. Same job, same boss, same apartment, same best friend. He took comfort in all of this, and it allowed him to move on in other aspects of his life. In a very real way, he had moved on from the years during which he spent every day working side by side with Cameron. He functioned just fine with his new team and went through life pretty much as he had before. But for some inexplicable reason, he just couldn't escape the thought of her. The memory of Cameron felt to him like he was going through life wearing sunglasses. She was right there in front of him all the time, coloring his view of the world and influencing every decision he made, but he had to learn to focus his thoughts through her to the real world. He exhaled heavily.

He began to slide his finger slowly under the secured flap of the envelope. He felt as though he was opening Pandora's Box, and was terrified of the consequences. He had never before been tempted to see what was inside. But it was time. He opened the envelope and pulled out a stiff sheet of paper. He held his breath as he unfolded the document. He had no idea what to expect. A typical resignation letter, detached and businesslike? A declaration of love? An ultimatum for her to stay? He swallowed.

He was half disappointed, half relieved as he started to read the letter. While it was impersonal and cold, it was the least complicated scenario. A succinct, efficient formality. His eyes widened slightly as he reached the second paragraph. After his initial amusement at the oh-so-very-Cameron-like tactic of confronting him with a reality he would never care to admit to himself, in this case that he cared even remotely what she would have written to him, his stomach tightened and his breath became shallow. He sat like stone, and read and reread the letter. He was not used to being wrong. His mind ran through the 3 years of their acquaintance at light speed as he reassessed every conversation they had ever had. As uncomfortable as he had been with his feelings for her before reading the letter, what he felt now was infinitely more terrifying. Up till now he was able to convince himself that what she felt for him wasn't real. He was so wrong. He wasted so much time! How would he have acted had he known? Would he have rebuked her even more cruelly or would he have opened himself up and taken a risk on her? His face contorted into a tortured grimace and he dropped the letter and ran his fingers through his hair and locked them there in agony. His leg throbbed and his throat tightened. Damn Wilson for finding this letter! He was now forced to face his worst fear: being vulnerable. He felt out of control, regretful, lost, petrified. All at once, he shoved the letter back into the front pocket of his back, stood up, grabbed his cane, threw his backpack over his shoulder and headed as quickly as he could to his motorcycle. He hadn't the faintest clue how to deal with this, but he knew one thing. He couldn't waste anymore time.


	5. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER 4**

House got off his bike and saw Wilson's car parked in front of his building. He stepped through the door to see Wilson on his couch watching tv. When House walked in, Wilson quickly stood up, as if startled—or in expectation—and turned to face House.

"Hey," said Wilson, doing a horrible job at pretending everything was normal.

House paused for a fraction of a second before he set his backpack on the floor next to the front door. "Still banned from your own house?" he asked as he unzipped his jacket.

"No, Carrie and I are doing better. I… was waiting for you. Thought you might need a friend."

"What I need is two weeks on a beach in Rio with Gisele Bundchen. Go home to your wife."

"She's grading midterms. You wanna tell me what's going on?"

"You wanna tell me what's going on with those shoes?"

"House, stop it. This has been left ignored long enough."

"Oh, I get it. Now that you've found out my deep, dark secret you get to play Mr. Hero or Mr. Detective or Mr. Psychologist or Mr. I-compensate-for-my-own-issues-by-jumping-at-the-chance-to-fix-everyone-else's-problems."

"Sorry for wanting to be there for you."

"Nothing's changed since yesterday except that you had to go snooping through my personal stuff and getting into my personal business! It has nothing to do with you, so just drop it!" House was feeling oppressed and out of control. He had come home not knowing exactly what his plan of action would be, but he wanted Wilson to get the hell out of there so he could figure it out. He didn't want anyone to know that he was planning to take this chance, because that way if nothing good came of his finally taking action, he wouldn't have to deal with the humiliation of being pitied. If Wilson got involved, then no matter what happened, nothing would ever be the same. All House wanted to do was get him out of there, try to find out where Cameron was, and try to figure out what the hell he was supposed to do.

"You're a coward, House. You say it has nothing to do with me, but I have been with you every day for the past 6 years, and you're right. Nothing about you has changed since yesterday. The only thing that has changed is that now I have a concrete explanation of what I always knew was there. You have not been the same since Cameron left. You have not mentioned her name once, not once! But I know you've thought of her everyday—"

"Oh, stop it. You just want to believe that to support your romantic notions that everybody—"

"No, this is not my issue, this is yours! You've never given a damn about what people think of you and you've always isolated yourself from others. But since Cameron left, you have retreated even further into yourself. You have been more cautious, you've been distracted, you've been less witty. You haven't been yourself! This is not like when Stacy left. After Stacy left, you tortured yourself. This is different. This is… I don't know."

"Well, what do you want me to do about it?" House asked confrontationally, half hoping it would shut Wilson up, half hoping for an answer.

"Well, reading the letter might be a good start!"

"I READ THE LETTER! Just now, tonight, and it scared the hell out of me, okay?! Thank you so much for all your damn help!"

"What did it say?"

"Here," House said, thrusting his backpack in Wilson's face. "Read for yourself, I'm going to bed."

House stormed down the hall to his bedroom and slammed the door shut. He sat on the edge of his bed in the dark room doubled over and clutching his knotted stomach. A few moments later, the door opened revealing Wilson standing there, the light from the hallway behind him making him just a faceless silhouette in the doorway.

"What do you want," House said, dismally.

A moment of silence. "Cameron's working at Rush in Chicago. I've booked you a plane ticket for tomorrow morning. Your flight's at 11:23." With that, he slowly turned away. His footsteps grew fainter and House heard the front door open and close as Wilson left for the night. He sat on the edge of his bed with his elbows resting on his knees, looking at the floor, sitting in silence except for the hollow ticking of the second hand of the clock hanging on the wall above him.


	6. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER 5**

House was in hell. In front of him was a woman with a toddler in one arm, a folded up stroller in the other, 5 bags on her shoulder, and a shrieking 4-year-old boy running wild all over Newark Airport. Behind him were two men wearing suits, the shorter of which had a laugh like a 13-year-old girl, while the taller of the two spit all over House's neck every time he told his seemingly innumerable "guy walks into a bar" jokes.

"Hey, Sylvester!" House turned to face the men behind him. "Could you not enunciate quite so much? I seem to have forgotten my umbrella at home."

"You don't have to be such a jerk about it" the short one countered.

"Yeah, well, you don't have to giggle like a junior high school cheerleader directly in my ear either, shit happens." The screaming boy fell into a fit of laughter at the sound of "the S word" and his mother turned around a glared at House.

"Could you please watch your language? There are kids here." With that, the boy rammed into House's right leg with all his might.

House winced and grabbed his thigh. "Yeah, I noticed! Now, keep this brat away from me before I take my cane and play a little game I like to call 'Preschooler Piñata'!"

On her fifth try, the mother in front of him, who apparently didn't realize that there was metal in cell phones or car keys, successfully went through the metal detector without it going off. House sped through and raced from the security checkpoint to his gate. His flight was on time and boarding in 15 minutes. He leaned against a wall and slid down to the ground. What the hell was he doing? He had a one way ticket to a city halfway across the country with no hotel room booked and no idea what he would find. Six years. She could be married. She could have kids. Hell, she could be married to Chase! Anything might have happened to her. Sure, she said she'd always love him in her "resignation" letter, but it was written when she was young and naïve. House snickered to himself as that thought crossed his mind. If he knew her at all, she would remain naïve until the day she died. The flight attended announced the first class boarding, so House pushed himself up and walked onto the plane.

The Chicago skyline came into view just as the seat belt sign came on. House looked down on the city and his stomach churned at the realization that she was somewhere amid that sprawling cluster of skyscrapers. The thought that she was there, somewhere beneath him, that he was looking down at her at that moment, made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. The closer he got to her, the more he began to doubt that this would be worth it. Two things could happen. She could reject him and break his heart, or, possibly more terrifying, she could accept him and what then? House hadn't had a relationship in over 10 years. He didn't know what to feel, how to act, how to be open. Didn't she deserve better than that? Didn't she deserve someone who would treat her like a queen, someone as warm and open as she is? He had never had a relationship with anyone and not disappointed them. After 6 years of being consumed by the thought of her, he feared he would have been better off enjoying his fantasies of her than of meeting in person only to crush her delicate spirit by… being himself.

He exited the airplane and headed straight to a ticket counter and asked for a ticket on the first available flight back to New Jersey. As the woman behind the counter searched for an available flight, House turned his phone back on and found that he had two voice mail messages. He paid for a ticket that would depart in 45 minutes and dialed his voice mailbox as he walked to the gate.

"House, this is Cuddy. I talked to Wilson and I just wanted you to know that I am so happy for you. You have my total support, and I think I can speak for everyone on the staff here when I say that there's no need to rush back. You can take all the time you need!"

"House, it's Wilson. Just wanted to say that if you chicken out, I have already drafted a mass e-mail in which I inform everyone in the hospital that you flew to Chicago to reunite with the woman of your dreams. Good luck."

That was good enough for him. He did an about face and exited O'Hare Airport, hailed a taxi, and told the driver to take him to Rush University Medical Center.


	7. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER 6**

The Chicago traffic painfully drew out his anxiety. He stared out the window the whole time with her letter like a security blanket between his fingers. His body became increasingly tense as the taxi inched closer and closer to his destination, until it was completely rigid and pain shot through his leg and swallowed his head. He dry swallowed a vicodin, which took the edge off of his headache, but did practically nothing for the pain in his leg. After a 2 ½ hour flight and another hour and half sitting in a taxi, he couldn't wait to get out and stretch his leg.

"Are we almost there?"

"Got about 15 more blocks."

"Let me out here. I'll walk the rest of the way."

The cab pulled over to the side of the road, and House paid the driver, threw his duffle bag over his shoulder, and stretched up to his full height on the concrete of the sidewalk. He looked around him and saw three separate Starbucks in a two block radius. He rolled his eyes and entered the closest one to him. He ordered a large coffee and asked for directions to the hospital. He took his coffee to go and headed off. He was in a completely unknown territory. This was probably the least House-like move he had ever made in his life. He and Stacy had good times, and he used to be able to be somewhat romantic and open in his own way. But she had always initiated everything. House never took chances, never went out on a limb unless she had already assured him that she would accept and support anything he was about to say or do. Even with her, even after 5 years with her, he would never have subjected himself to this uncertain fate. He couldn't believe what he was doing, and he was more terrified now than he could remember ever being before.

Now House took another chance. Against his better judgment, he flipped open his phone and scrolled down the mere 10 numbers he had saved to Wilson's name. (Or "Mother Teresa," as it appeared in his phone.)

"_Hey," _said the voice on the other end.

"Hey," House said simply. He might have summoned up the courage to make the first move with Cameron, but he wasn't going to grovel to Wilson.

"_So, I take it you're in Chicago."_

"Yeah. I'm a couple blocks away from the hospital."

"_You doing okay?"_

"Well, I just spent 5 hours travelling, my leg is killing me, and I'm about to go do the stupidest thing I've ever done, but other than that I'm fine."

"_Wow, and you've got some heavy competition in that area. Performing two brain biopsies on an 8-year-old boy last week comes to mind."_

"That only would have been stupid if it had killed him," House countered, endlessly grateful to Wilson for lightening up the tension he had been feeling without relief since he woke up at 8 in the morning.

"_Hey, it could just as easily have killed him. It was stupid," _Wilson answered, with a smile in his voice.

"Okay, fine. But I saved a life."

"_True."_ There was a pause on the other end. _"House, I know you hate hearing this kind of thing, but I have to tell you. I'm so proud of you."_

House looked up at the towering buildings stretching out above him. He hesitated for a long moment, and then said, "Thanks. I… I'm gonna go. I'm almost there."

"_House?"_

"What?"

"_This is the smartest thing you have ever done."_

House flipped his phone closed and turned the corner. He was there. He walked into the crowded lobby and found a directory listing the names of all the doctors. "Allison Cameron, MD" Third floor. He found the elevators and waited forever for one to arrive. It beeped as it opened, and House ran in and pushed the "close door" button with his cane before the elderly man rushing toward him could make it into the car with him. He arrived on the third floor and looked around. There was a nurse's station and he thought he'd ask one of them where Cameron's office was. Two of them were talking together, the younger one was obviously new and the older was going over the computer system with her. The older one grabbed a chart and headed away, while House approached the younger.

"I'm, uh, looking for Allison Cameron's office."

The nurse thought for a minute. "Dr. Cameron… oh, yeah, 30-ish, brown hair, green eyes right?"

House's throat tightened.

"Yeah."

"Yeah, she called in today. I think her kid's sick."


	8. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER 7**

"_She's got a kid???"_

"That's what I said."

"_No, that's impossible. That's… no way."_

"Why do you find that so hard to believe? It's been 6 years, who knows what else has changed?" House was speeding down the sidewalk, his adrenaline pumping, his breath heavy. On some level, he felt that if he could just walk fast enough, he could walk right out of this nightmare. He didn't even remember calling Wilson, he didn't remember leaving the hospital. He left in a haze of shock and disappointment that was still lingering around him.

"_No, I'd know, she'd have told me. I'm sure she'd have told me."_

"Wait a minute! Are you telling me that you talk to her? Why the hell didn't you say anything?!"

"_Okay, just relax, will you? We don't really talk, but we do send each other Christmas and birthday cards every year. She never said anything. She would have told me." _Wilson was trying to put together the pieces of this puzzle. She would have told him, right? Sure, they weren't best friends, but they pretty much kept each other posted on their lives. She definitely would have mentioned this. On the other hand, she had never once mentioned having any relationships with anybody. They had never once mentioned House's name. Maybe she would keep that from him. Maybe that's a part of her life she felt uncomfortable sharing with House's best friend. Maybe she thought that he would think she was betraying House, or that it might get back to him. The more he thought about it, the more he thought it was a distinct possibility. God, how was this possible?

"You don't know that." House was trying to put together the pieces of this puzzle. Would she really have told him? It's not like she and Wilson were best friends who shared every detail of their lives. Maybe she wouldn't have mentioned it. On the other hand, she had always trusted Wilson, and probably would have mentioned something like her a serious relationship. That wouldn't be something she would keep from him. Surely, that would be a part of her life she would feel comfortable sharing with him. It's not like finding love with someone else would be betraying him, and she knows that Wilson is discreet enough that it wouldn't get back to him. The more he thought about it, the more he thought it was a distinct possibility. God, that could actually be possible!

"_I guess I don't. Only one way to find out. I have her address."_

House was considerably more optimistic that he had been just seconds before. It was worth the risk.

"Okay, give it to me."


	9. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER 8**

The cab dropped him off in front of a new-ish brick apartment building situated on a beautiful street not far from the hospital, with wrought-iron fences, strategically placed trees, courtyards with perfectly manicured foliage. House walked inside the building and saw there was no elevator. He popped a vicodin as he mentally prepared himself for the climb to the third floor. After the first flight he stopped and rested on the stairs for a moment, massaging his aching thigh. After the second flight, his throbbing leg served as a reminder to him that he was a middle-aged cripple who didn't deserve such a vibrant, healthy young woman. And yet up he went. Her apartment was directly to the left at the top of the stairs and so when he reached the end of his expedition, he was immediately face to face with the final barrier between him and the woman he loved. He leaned on his cane for a moment as he caught his breath and contemplated how he would react to seeing her, and how she would react to seeing him. There were so many variables that it wasn't even worth planning, and so he knocked on her door with his cane, resolved to just fly where the wind carried him.

Cameron was sitting on the end of the couch with the feet of a small sleeping boy and a book on her lap. He was breathing heavily, his forehead clammy and his face flushed with fever. Lost in her book, she jerked to attention when she heard a knock at her door. This was not just any knock. This was not the sound of knuckles tapping on a door. This loud, hollow sound could be nothing but the sound of a dense wooden object pounding against metal. Her stomach turned inside out and somersaulted as her blood pressure rose and she began to tremble all over. She had heard this sound before. It was burned in her memory and appeared often in her dreams. She slowly walked to the door and turned the knob.

House was waiting outside the door for a few moments when he thought he heard a stirring inside. He began to shake all over and felt unsteady against his cane. He heard the doorknob turn.


	10. Chapter 9

**CHAPTER 9**

Cameron turned the doorknob in slow motion, afraid of what she would see on the other side. Her first instinct was to expect House standing outside the door, but why now? Why would he suddenly show up at her door? That ship had sailed a long time ago. For a year, every time someone rang the doorbell, every time she heard a motorcycle, every time she saw a tall dark figure out of the corner of her eye, she would get butterflies in her stomach and turn, expecting to find a penitent House ready to love her, ready to take her into his arms. Each time, she would wilt inside as her well of hope slowly dried up. Although she thought of him often, more than often, she no longer expected to see him enter back into her life. And yet, there was no mistaking that knock….

House watched the doorknob turn for what felt like an eternity. The moments he spent waiting for that door to open were among the most torturous he'd ever experienced. He was terrified of what she would see when she opened her door.

The door finally swung open and the two of them set eyes on one another for the first time in 6 long years. Cameron leaned on the doorknob for support as her legs threatened to give way underneath her. "Oh god," she sighed breathily as their eyes locked in an intense, mesmerizing gaze. House's eyes had never been so blue. Looking into them was like being drawn into a long corridor lined with countless doors on either side, all of them locked, and she had always felt the irresistible compulsion to discover the key to the treasures hidden behind them. Their eyes searched one another's so hungrily that they seemed to overlap and become one, caressing, massaging, clutching tightly to the openness they each found in the other. House took an involuntary step toward her and leaned in toward her upturned face. Their breaths escaped as tiny staccato pants, the warmth of which they could feel close to their faces. House swayed toward her, his forehead nearly touching hers, and her eyes rolled into the back of her head and closed gently, intoxicated with the feeling of his face just inches from hers. House swayed back away from her as her eyes slowly opened again and he stared at the ground for a few seconds before saying to her, in a low and gravelly tone, "How are you, Cameron?"

"I'm… fine." She paused, then gently asked, "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you. I've, uh, I've missed you."

Cameron opened her mouth to speak when she was interrupted by the sound of a child crying. She glanced behind her in the direction of the couch, then turned her focus back on House.

"Come in. Sorry, he's sick, I have to just…" She turned away and headed into the living room.

House took a cautious step into the apartment, glanced around, and then walked in and closed the door behind him. He followed behind Cameron to the living room, and hung back in the doorway watching her comfort the boy until his sobs decrescendoed to nothing but unsteady breaths.

"Sorry, he's sick," said Cameron awkwardly.

"That's okay. How old is he?"

"About 2 ½."

"Congratulations," House mumbled to the floor.

"Oh, no, he's not my son. I'm just watching him for the day. His father is in town to give a speech at Northwestern, and he brought Michael with him. I told him I'd watch him for the day."

House's heart lightened at the news that she did not have a child with another man.

She continued. "Actually, he's... he's Chase's son."


	11. Chapter 10

**CHAPTER 10**

Uncomfortable silences followed the end of each sentence. Both House and Cameron were completely out of words to speak, although they had enough in their heads to fill novels. Neither of them had ever been good at small talk, and yet they didn't dare speak of anything real. Cameron was in a state of shock. What was he doing here? Why now? What did it mean? She felt like she was falling in a dream. It isn't real, but it's still terrifying. It took all of her willpower to keep in control of the situation. She was dying to know what brought this man into her life after so many years, but wouldn't dare to try to find out for fear that the slightest move might send him away. House felt like he was paralyzed. He didn't have control over his mind or his body. He would attempt to transform thoughts into sentences, but he couldn't get his mouth to move. He felt helpless, trapped inside his own body.

His finally moved his mouth, but only air escaped. He cleared his throat to give his voice a jump start, and was finally able to croak, "He looks like him."

"Yeah. He was married for a couple years but his wife was killed in a car accident a few months ago. We got back in touch and I've been trying to help him out as much as I can. He works at the Mayo clinic, but he has a lot of speaking engagements and consultation requests in the area."

Silence.

"He'll be back at around 7 if you want to say hi to him." Cameron was grasping for noncommittal things to say. She didn't want House to think there was anything between them, but she didn't couldn't figure out how to say that without being forward.

"No, that's okay. Well, I'm gonna go back to my hotel. Good to see you." He had no hotel booked, but his mind was a blank. He had literally nothing he could say to her. He had a vast river of thoughts hidden behind an immense dam, and when the river threatened to rise up above it and flood over the top, he would lose all control. He felt the river rising within him, perilously close to spilling all over, and he knew he had to leave before he drowned. He turned to leave.

"House!" Cameron cried out behind him. She became embarrassed. The name escaped from her mouth without permission, her desperation getting the better of her. House stopped and turned his face to hers. She had nothing to say. Their eyes met for one last time before House walked out of her life for good. Until he stopped. He turned toward her and heard himself say, "How about dinner?"

She drew in a breath. "Sure. Meet me here at 8?"

He nodded to the floor. "Yeah." His head snapped up to meet her eyes. "See you at 8."


	12. Chapter 11

**CHAPTER 11**

House situated himself on a chair in the corner of his hotel room with his leg propped up on a side table and his cane resting on the bed. He ran the letter through his fingers and gazed into the distance. The room grew dim around him as the time ticked by, and his daydream was interrupted by another call from "Mother Teresa."

"Yeah."

"_So?"_

"The kid's Chase's."

"_WHAT?!?!?!"_

House smiled slyly and congratulated himself on this small victory. His misleading answer had the desired effect. "But not Cameron's."

"_You're an ass."_

"You're mean. I'm telling mom!"

"_Seriously, tell me what's happening."_ Did House hear someone whisper in the background?

"Where are you?"

"_In my office."_

"Say hi to Cuddy for me."

"_Why would you think—"_

"Okay, fine, I'll admit it. I _am_ Big Brother. I heard her in the background, 007!"

"_Okay, fine. I'm putting you on speaker. Say hi to House."_

"_Hi, House."_

"Hi, Cuddy. What are you wearing?"

"_A licorice bikini, what else?"_

"Do they make those in extra-jumbo sizes?"

Wilson was getting impatient. _"So, what was Chase's kid doing at Cameron's apartment?"_

"He's in town. She's watching him for the day while he's lecturing somewhere."

"_So who's the mother?"_ asked Cuddy.

"Chase's ex-wife."

"_Wow, he got married and divorced in 6 years?"_ Wilson said, surprised.

"What, you think you're the only one who can manage that? No, actually he got married and widowed in 6 years. Wife died in a car accident."

"_So, Chase and Cameron are… what?"_

"I don't know. I don't think they're together, but we didn't exactly get that far."

"_Exactly how far did you get?"_interrogated Wilson.

"That's the end of it. Until dinner tonight. I'm meeting her at 8."

"_Wow, that's great!" _exclaimed Wilson.

"_House,"_ warned Cuddy. _"Don't blow this."_

"With any luck, I won't be the one doing the blowing," House retorted evasively.

"_She's right," _chimed Wilson. _"You've got a second chance. Remember, it's not too late."_

"Well, Jiminy and Cricket, thank you very much for the words of wisdom, but I better get going; lot's to do before dinner. I gotta do my hair, paint my nails, wax my bikini line,--"

"_And there goes the line, thanks a lot,"_ whined an exasperated Wilson.

"_Good luck!"_

House flipped his phone closed and switched on the light mounted on the wall behind him. The room was bathed in a dim, warm glow that cast thick shadows on the floor. He got up and went to take a shower. He let the water run for a minute while he walked back out and went through his duffle bag. He laid out his clothes for the evening on his bed. Dark denim jeans, and a white "Rolling Stones" t-shirt underneath his sky blue button-down.


	13. Chapter 12

**CHAPTER 12**

The 3 hours between House's departure and his impending arrival had given Cameron a bit of time to compose herself. Michael, Chase's son, was feeling a little bit better but mercifully stayed asleep most of the afternoon. It gave her a chance to reconcile the situation in her head. She had been so blindsided she could hardly censor her emotions at all, but now she was feeling a bit more in control. She was nervous about dinner, but she was also intrigued. As much as she was at a disadvantage when House showed up on her doorstep unannounced and shocked the hell out of her, she knew that now, after reflection, the roles were probably reversed. During the time that had passed, Cameron had changed. She was still 100% Cameron, but she had gained maturity and composure. She couldn't know for sure, but she was pretty sure that the same couldn't be said for House. After working herself through this unexpected chain of events, she felt much more in control that she had been. Chase came and picked up Michael on time (thank goodness), and she shooed them out the door as quickly as she could without arousing Chase's suspicions. Under the circumstances, she didn't think that Chase necessarily needed to know her plans for the evening. She felt rushed getting ready for the evening. While she had no idea what to expect, she felt that it couldn't hurt to take another shower, shave her legs again, and put on her best perfume. She was dressed stylishly but simple. She opted for dark jeans that accentuated her curves, and a black v-neck top that was fitted on top and then flowed down loosely over her midsection. She completed the look with dangle earrings and high heels. A little after 8, she heard House's signature knock on her door. She answered the door and both of them took a moment to react to the one another.

_He looks exactly the same. Every bit as sexy as he did the day I left._

_She looks amazing. Still skinny, but with a more womanly body and a softer face. Curves definitely suit her._ His eyes hugged the curves of her body like his motorcycle hugged the curves of the road. She couldn't help but notice, and blushed a little and flashed him a genuine smile.

"Shall we?" she said.

"Where are we going?"

"There's a cute little hole-in-the-wall Italian restaurant in walking distance from here. Sound okay?"

"Sure, fine."

Cameron grabbed her purse and walked out the door. When she turned to lock the door, House turned too, standing close behind her. If she took one small step back, she would be leaning into his chest. _Tempting, but not gonna happen_, she thought with a slight smile that House didn't miss.

They turned to leave and when the stairs came into view, Cameron felt embarrassed and guilty. She hadn't considered the fact that he had to climb three flights of stairs to reach her apartment, and she felt terrible to put him through that pain. However, it was as close as House got to expressing affection. He would never say it aloud, but his actions spoke for themselves. They reached the bottom of the stairs and made their way to the restaurant in silence. They had no reservation so they waited on a bench outside for the hostess to call Cameron's name. The weather was perfect. Not hot, but just warm enough to wrap around them like a blanket. House was resting both hands on the handle of his cane with his chin leaning on top. Cameron was the first to speak.

"So, can I ask you something?"

House winced inside. He hated that question. It was always followed by a personal question that in reality he would actually prefer they didn't ask. "Please do."

"What brought you here?"

You see? God, he hated that question. But of course, it was inevitable. What would the point of his trip be if they didn't address that little topic.

House geared up to answer when they heard "Allison, party of two."

"Saved by the bell," House said, amused.

"For now," Cameron replied slyly.

They were seated at a table near the back of the crowded restaurant, which had a wonderful, cozy atmosphere. The lighting was dim and a warm gold, accented by the candles stuck in wine bottles at each table. They each ordered a glass of wine, and then Cameron leaned back in her chair and said, "You were saying?"

"I read your letter."

"When?"

"Yesterday."

"For the first time?"

House replied by lifting his eyes up and locking them with hers.

"You saved it all these years?"

"Yeah."

Cameron was taken by surprise. She thought that when she hadn't heard from him, it meant that either he didn't care about her, or he just threw it away without reading it, which Cameron thought was the most likely scenario. He didn't read his e-mail, didn't read her article, so why would he read her resignation letter?

"Well, I guess I should be… flattered?"

"I guess you should." She didn't smile, but looked pleasantly surprised. "Do you remember what you wrote?"

"Oh, gosh, every word."

House couldn't get over how confident and composed she was. She managed to make him feel very safe with her directness and openness. One of his fears was that she would make this a big deal, but she was handling it with grace, which made quite an impression on House.

"What you said… it was a long time ago."

"Yes." Part of her knew that he had to be interested in her, but there was a part of her that was conditioned never to bank on anything with House when it comes to sharing emotions. She wasn't going to offer up any information. If he had questions, he could ask her.

"How do you feel about that letter now? Do you regret writing it, do you wish I'd never read it? I know a lot changes with time, but I need to know… what has changed and what is still the same."

"Well, I'll put it this way." She stared intently into his eyes. "I said in the letter that it would never be too late. And I don't regret writing it."

She held her gaze and he complied until the waiter appeared to take their orders.


	14. Chapter 13

**CHAPTER 13**

The waiter's interruption was perfectly timed. Both of them were ready for the atmosphere to lighten up a bit. House had taken a big risk and Cameron knew that if she wasn't careful, he would feel cornered and shut down. After they ordered, Cameron took a sip of her wine and asked how everyone was at PPTH.

House felt his emotions churn inside of him. He was intrigued by her last answer, and he admired the dexterity with which she moved onto a less threatening topic. This was not lost on House. The old Cameron would have pressed the issue with the objective of forcing him to confront his feelings, which is precisely why he had been so terrified to come and see her all these years. He always knew that she had a sixth sense about him, that she knew that she was right about what he felt for her, but that had always scared him into pushing her away. This newfound maturity was an incredible turn-on for him, and the intensity of his emotions was as strong as they had ever been. It was easier than he thought it would be.

"Same. Wilson's still annoying, Cuddy's still the devil."

Cameron breathed a laugh. "How's your team?"

"No more idiotic than you guys were," he said with a smirk.

"Well, I'm sure your patients would be glad to hear you say that."

He smiled. "I wouldn't know."

"Good point."

"So, how long have you been in Chicago?"

"Five years." She started to get a little uncomfortable.

"Five? You left Princeton 6 years ago. What did you do in the meantime?"

She squirmed. "Well, Chase got his job at the Mayo Clinic so we moved to Minnesota and I got a job at Olmsted Medical Center." She opened her mouth to go on, but closed it immediately.

"Mmm-hmm. Can I ask what made you leave?"

"Do you really want to know?" she asked carefully.

House looked down at the table for a moment before he met her eyes purposefully and said, "Yeah, I do."

Cameron nodded. "It was… it was a little bit of a rough year for me. When I decided to leave PPTH, I sort of intended to redefine my view of happiness." This was a concept House knew very well. "I felt like I had invested a lot… in you… and I sort of relinquished the idea that that would ever, I don't know, come to fruition. I always thought that you and I together would be what would make me happiest of all, but knowing that wasn't going to be an option, I had to find another route to happiness. So I followed Chase. When we got to Minnesota, I didn't even have a job yet. I had always felt that if I worked in a world-renowned facility, I would be able to make a more direct impact on the world, but I put that by the wayside and instead just wanted to find a place that was close and would hire me. Chase really flourished and came into his own, and we had a pleasant little life. But I felt very suffocated, and I had given up a lot of who I was. It wasn't that Chase ever asked that of me, but he didn't really notice either. He never really knew me that well. I pretended to be happy and content both for his benefit and my own. I would think, 'my dream life will never happen, so I just have to learn to be happy in this life.' But I could never fool myself. Without Chase knowing, I began to apply for some jobs that would take me out of Minnesota, including the one here at Rush. Chase had a colleague whose specialty was immunology, and when he found out there was a position opening up here, he was so excited because if the position opened up at Mayo, we could work together. He had no idea that I had been asked to come out here for an interview. I lied to him and told him I was visiting a friend of mine who had just had a baby, but instead I flew here. He found out that the guy he worked with didn't get the job, and came home to tell me. He was so worried that I would be disappointed that the position was no longer open at Mayo, and so sweet about being there for me that I couldn't tell him that I was the one they chose. I sat there crying, and he had no idea what the real reason was, he just tried to comfort me. That night was horrible. I had lied to him for so long about being happy in our relationship, but I never really felt guilty because I was lying to myself too. But now I was being intentionally deceitful, and it made me feel like I was not only being cruel and cowardly at that moment, but that I had been for the whole time we were together. We slept together for the last time that night, and I—" her eyes welled up—"I felt like a whore." Now House's eyes welled up and he leaned forward in his chair. "The next morning while he was at work, I left to come to Chicago with nothing but one duffle bag full of stuff, and I called him from the airport to tell him I was leaving. I hurt him more than I thought I was ever capable of hurting anybody. We didn't speak at all for more than 6 months. One day, out of the blue, he called me and told me he would be coming here and asked if we could have dinner. It was then that we finally talked about everything. It was so hard to sit there and watch his face when I told him the truth about everything, but after dinner he did the most amazing thing. He hugged me and told me that it was okay. I had no entitlement to be forgiven by him, but still he absolved me out of the goodness of his heart. Things slowly started to get better, and we began to rekindle our friendship. We finally became close friends again after he met Jessica, the woman he ended up marrying. When he fell in love with her, all the pressure and awkwardness disappeared between us. When she died, he was utterly devastated. He only had three years with her before he lost her, and Michael was barely a year old at the time. I went up to stay with the two of them, and it was then that I finally felt that I showed him the same support that he had always shown me. Anyway, that's about it. He's such a great guy, but now we are a part of each other's life in the way it was meant to be."

House was captivated. He was amazed at her strength, her forthrightness, and wonderful poise. He looked on her with admiration and pride, and said, "You are fascinating." She grinned. No better compliment that that coming from Gregory House.


	15. Chapter 14

**CHAPTER 14**

The meal they shared was more pleasant than either of them had expected. The greatest part about the whole evening was that they were both so themselves. As the evening wore on, they both dropped all pretenses, something that is very rare for anybody to do ever, to feel safe and comfortable enough with another person to be nothing but the core of who they are. House was not trying to be charming, nor did Cameron expect him to be. More importantly, he wasn't trying to be a jerk, which Cameron also noticed and was silently touched by. He still had the same dry sense of humor, much of it at the expense of other people, but the ruthlessness was gone, and none of it was geared toward her. _Is it me, or is he not trying to sabotage this?_ She'd seen him in all sorts of compromising positions when his defense mechanism of being rude sprang up reflexively. She wasn't entirely sure what this meant, but she liked to believe it had something to do with her. House was aware of the change as well. It had been so long that he had felt so genuinely himself that he had literally forgotten who he was. He wasn't exactly sure what this meant, but he thought it just might have something to do with her.

When the check came at the end of the meal, House gave the waiter his credit card. Cameron dug through her purse for cash to cover her half, but he insisted on paying for it. They stepped out of the restaurant just after 10:00. They had now reached a point that signal the end of this reunion. If they parted ways now, it would be easy to treat it as just a dinner between two old colleagues who wanted to catch up. Or it could go on.

Cameron stopped outside on the sidewalk and said, "So."

"So."

"Guess I'm gonna go back home."

Suddenly there was tension in the air.

"Okay. Well, it was good to see you. Thank you. For everything." He felt himself withering up inside. As soon as he exited the doors of the restaurant, all of his defenses sprang up. He was barely able to choke out the last part of his sentence.

Cameron bit her lip and gave a mild smile. "You're welcome. Thank you. For coming." She wasn't sure what to do. Under normal circumstances, this would be the place where she would hug a person goodbye. But she was terrified to touch him, because with everything she was feeling—everything she had been feeling for years, she felt it might be easier to let him go without the memory of being in his arms. So she extended her hand.

House looked down at her hand. He flung his cane over his left arm, stepped forward, and accepted her hand in his. The touch jolted them. The last time their skin had met was the day she left. Since then, each of them had craved the touch of one another to the point where their senses heightened, to the point that the slightest graze of skin against skin was as intimate as if they had been lying in bed together.

The two of them both stood staring at their joined hands. They stood perfectly still, until House's hand gave hers a gentle embrace, and his thumb massaged her hand as if it had taken on a life of its own. He pulled his hand from hers, looked off into the distance for a moment, and then said, "It's pretty late. I better walk you home." Her eyes were wide with surprise and innocence, and her face was warm and flushed. Towering above her, he felt for an instant like he wanted to envelope her in his arms and protect her from the world that he knew. A world of pain, of loneliness, of cynics and liars and brutality. Of anything that could ever extinguish whatever it was that allowed her face to be so soft and simple. Whatever it was that kept her idealism and optimism so strong, immersed as she was in a profession that placed her face to face with all the evils of the world every single day. Whatever it was that made her uniquely Cameron.

"Can I ask you a question?" she said.

He looked down at her. "That's the second time you've asked me that today, and it happens to be a question I absolutely dread."

"Oh. I'm sorry." They walked on for a moment in silence.

"What is your question?" The vulnerability in his eyes as spoke gave Cameron the courage to go on.

"What made you open the letter?"

"Just curious."

"Oh. Okay." That answer said it all. It was over. They reached her building, and she looked up into his eyes. She looked so deeply into him that he felt naked and exposed. She tried to channel all of the love and care and gentleness that he thought was dead in the world, and to send it all to him through her eyes, as a goodbye gift. She stopped and turned to him. She expected him to stop, but he took two extra steps that brought him within inches of her. Never breaking contact with her eyes, he grazed her right shoulder with his left hand, and slowly trailed it down her arm to grab her hand. She shuffled towards him so that her face was nearly buried in his neck, although they weren't touching. He felt her warm breath against his neck and he lifted his head to the sky, his eyes fluttering closed, and drew in a shaky breath. He let his cane fall to the ground and brought his right hand up to her thigh, running up her waist to the top of her jeans. He lowered his head so that his chin was nearly resting on her hair, and breathed heavily onto the top of her head. She slowly and timidly let the tip of her tongue escape from her mouth and trailed up the middle of his neck in a slow, straight line, from his adam's apple up to underneath his chin. His left hand held hers fast, while his right found its way underneath the flowing material of her top and his fingers danced along the top of her jeans, lightly caressing her stomach and side. He opened his eyes and lowered them to her, watching the top of her head as her mouth and tongue lapped and sucked his neck. He removed his left hand from hers and ran it from her shoulder to her neck, and he tilted her head back, and slowly brought his mouth to hers.


	16. Chapter 15

**CHAPTER 15**

Their mouths met lightly, their lips just barely open. They held this position for as long as they could to draw out the suspense of taking each other deeply into their mouths. His large hand encompassed her jaw, neck and ear, and he ran it firmly to the back of her head, clasping her hair between his fingers. The fingers of his other hand became tense on her stomach, and he slid his arm up her bare back underneath her shirt, and embraced her ferociously as their mouths opened and the dam of his mind burst and overflowed with abandon and he lost all control. Cameron slid her hands up his back and they clung to each other desperately, their tongues exploring the other's mouth silently and greedily.

They were consumed with desire, and wanted nothing more than to be able to succumb to their needs, but the problem was that they would have to scale 3 flights of stairs to get to her apartment.

"House," Cameron mumbled into his mouth.

He slid his mouth down and turned his attentions to her neck and shoulder. "Mmmm?" The vibrations of his gravelly voice against her throat thrilled her and sent a shock throughout her body.

She ran her fingers through his hair, pushing his head deeper into the soft skin underneath her ear. "Can you—mmm—can you make it upstairs?" She inhaled sharply at the sensation of his coarse stubble scraping across her moist skin as House slid his head across her face and leaned his forehead against hers, his eyes screwed tightly shut. His hand continued rubbing her back firmly.

He released a hot, shallow breath against her face and said, "I have to."

They parted slowly, but he forcefully grabbed her right hand in his left and held it tight. She bent down to pick up the cane and handed it to him. She slid her right arm around his waist and leaned her head against his chest as they made their way to the stairs. They slowly made their way up, one step at a time, and she could feel his body tense as pain ripped through his leg. She would stop and kiss his chest through his shirt and look up into his eyes encouragingly. He was frustrated and embarrassed, and when they reached the first landing, he paused to lean on his cane, his knuckles white around the handle. His face contorted in agony, not only from the pain in his leg, but from the torture of having to wait to have her. She ran her hands down his waist and nibbled and sucked on his lower lip. He grunted and started up the second flight of stairs. By the time they reached the second landing, his frustration was overtaking him, and he grabbed Cameron's shoulders and hauled himself against her, pushing her into the wall with animal lust. Her hands slid up his shirt and clutched at his strong back. She lost all inhibitions and violently lifted his shirt over his head and nuzzled against his warm strong chest. A surge of adrenaline coursed through his body, and he threw his cane loudly to the ground, grabbed either side of the railings, and hoisted himself up the steps. Cameron watched in awe from below as the muscles in his bare arms, back, and chest flexed and rippled as he dexterously scaled the last flight of stairs in an instant. He reached the top of the stairs breathing heavily and looking down upon her awestruck face, and said, "Please!"

Cameron grabbed his cane, ran up the stairs, and fumbled to get her key in the lock with him standing behind her, his arms wrapped around her body and his mouth sailing across her neck and shoulders. The lock gave way and they tumbled into her apartment together, grasping and moaning and clutching to each other as the door swung shut.


	17. Chapter 16

**CHAPTER 16**

_Chest warm. Back cold. Fruity smell—shampoo? Are those legs?_ A soft smile crept over House's face as he realized where he was. He opened his eyes without moving any other muscle on his body. He was entirely comfortable and content at that very moment, in that very position, and he wanted to savor that feeling so as never to let it go. As, one by one, his senses awoke, he became aware of lying on his side, with his arms around the small, sleeping figure of Cameron, tucked cozily against him with her back to him. His strong arms were wrapped in a bear hug around her chest, and her hands curved around his forearms. Her body was perfectly contoured to his, and they lay with their legs intertwined. Their hearts beat in tandem, they breathed in perfect unison, against the counterpoint of his throbbing thigh. He could feel her soft, metered breaths warming his arm. She was so warm against him that he was acutely aware of the chill on his back. He used his foot to drag the comforter up to the point where his fingers could grab hold of it, and he draped it over the single unit of their joined bodies. Cameron sighed and stirred slightly, threatening to wake up, but the threat proved empty as she nestled impossibly closer to his body and remained asleep. House let out a sigh of his own, and allowed his eyes to close once more.

For the next few hours, House drifted back and forth through varying degrees of consciousness. The boundary between dream and reality blurred and faded, as he travelled through fragmented scenes and stories, some real and some imaginary. He felt like dead weight, like all the tension from his body was lifted, leaving his limbs and torso in a heavy heap on the bed. He remained in this state until the figure in his arms went through the same sequence of events that he had. She kissed his arm softly.

"Morning," she mumbled into his arm.

"Morning," he mumbled into her hair.

She began stroking his arm with her hand. "Comfortable?"

He chuckled softly and kissed the back of her head. "For the first time in a long time."

Her eyes closed in ecstasy and a tear slid down her cheek at his words. She could make him happy. "Thank you," she whispered.

He turned her gently to face him. His eyes spoke before he did. "Thank _you_." He placed a kiss on the tip of her nose. She nodded and smiled through her tears. "Can I ask you a question?" she asked. Now that she knew he hated that question, she was going to use it to her advantage.

House rolled his eyes. "Does it matter?"

"Good point. What made you save my letter?"

He spoke in a low, husky voice. "I felt like… as long as I still had that letter, it was like I hadn't completely lost you."

"You never did."

He smiled.

"Can I ask you another question?"

"Sorry, closed until 10am."

Cameron lifted her head up to see the clock on her night stand. "It's after 11."

"Is it? Yeah, but see the thing is it's Saturday. Closed on weekends, try back Monday."

"Come on, nothing's closed on weekends anymore," she said, going along with his game.

House smirked. "Okay, I'll open up for you. But it'll cost you. You need to pay for each question you want to ask me."

An evil smile spread over Cameron's face. "I see. Any sales going on?"

"Nope, no sales, no negotiations."

"What's the return policy?"

"All sales final."

"Okay, name your price. Why didn't you open the letter before?"

"Hmmm. That'll be one kiss."

Cameron kissed him lightly on the mouth.

"I didn't open the letter before because no matter what was in that envelope, I knew I would fail. If it was a normal resignation letter, that meant that I blew my chances with you. If it said what it said, I knew that somehow, I'd ruin my chances for good."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Let's see, that comes to… you kissing my chest plus tax."

She slid her arms around his back pulling herself as close as she could ever be to him. She started at his collarbone and worked her way down, kissing and licking and sucking all the way down to his pelvic bones. House moaned. She stopped abruptly and looked at him expectantly, knowing exactly what she was doing to him.

"What was the question again?" he joked.

"What do you mean, you'd ruin your chances for good?"

"Yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah, I remembered. Still gullible, huh? You're probably not gonna like this answer, but… only two things could happen. I could do nothing and just stay the same, or I could find you. And, once I found you, it would probably be even worse."

"But you don't have to worry about that anymore. You found me and it was perfect."

"Because I haven't screwed it up yet." He looked down at her, apologetically. He shouldn't have come. This was his one route to happiness, but as terrified as he was of that emotion, he knew that at some point, his defenses would spring up and he would hurt her even more than he had. "This was the most selfish thing I have ever done."

"House, I'm here for you. Maybe you won't screw it up. Maybe I can help you not screw it up."

"How?" he murmured, dismally.

"Hmmm, that's a pretty complicated question. It'll cost you." The corners of House's mouth turned up slightly and he raised one eyebrow. "I want you… to tell me you love me."

He rolled on top of her and kissed her gently and deeply. She wrapped her legs around his tightly. He placed one hand on either side of her and lifted his upper body above her. His looked at her with quiet passion in his eyes, and said, "I love you." He fell on her again and rolled her on top of him. Their passion escalated as they closed in on one another and they became one, bringing one another to simultaneous ecstasy. They fell, breathing heavily, until House broke the silence saying with a smirk on his face, "Where's my change?"


	18. Chapter 17

**CHAPTER 17**

They fit together like two puzzle pieces. House was half-lying, half-sitting on the bed with pillows propping his back up against the headboard. Cameron was leaning against him, one arm behind his back, her head resting against his bare chest, and the fingers of her other hand stroking his chest and stomach lazily. His arm was wrapped around her small frame, his fingers lightly dancing on her shoulder and upper arm, and his right leg was lying on top of both of hers, which served the dual purpose of elevating it, while maintaining as much bodily contact as he could. They had the comforter pulled up to their waists, and turned the tv on. They laid together silently, except for the occasional chuckle, which shook both of their bodies and made them feel even more in sync. The significance of this domestic scene was not lost on either one of them. They felt warm and safe and as content and fulfilled as they'd ever felt.

_*Ring, ring*_

House's phone was in the pocket of his pants, which had been strewn on the bedroom floor in their fit of passion the night before. Cameron began to move so he could get up to answer it, but he tightened his grip on her arm gently, and said, "Don't worry about it." They continued as they were, in silence.

_*Ring, ring*_

Cameron looked up at him. "It's fine," he said. She laid her head back on his chest and relaxed into him.

_*Ring, ring*_

"Ugh," House grunted. "Come on, move." He dragged himself out of bed and took his phone out of his pocket and looked at the caller id. Mother Teresa, who else? He flipped his phone open harshly, and snapped, "What!"

"_Hey, it's Wilson."_

"Yeah, I know who it is! What are you calling me for?"

"_Just wanted to see how everything's going."_

He climbed back into bed, pulled the covers up to his waist, and situated himself in his post with his arm around Cameron. She smiled up at him, and kissed him silently on the mouth. "Everything was fine until you called, now leave me alone." He flipped the phone closed, and Cameron hit him lightly on the chest.

"That was so rude," she said, feigning anger.

"What, is that supposed to surprise you?"

"I guess some things will never change," she said contentedly. She wouldn't change a thing about him if she had the chance.

House was pleasantly surprised and amused by the relief laced in her voice with that last comment. Anyone else in the world would have a laundry list of qualities that they would change about him if they could, even Wilson! He looked down at her with a face that told her she was crazy, and said, "You say that like it's a good thing."

"Because it is."

"Well, lucky for you, I guess," he said, while in his mind he thought, _but luckier for me_.

"Absolutely," Cameron replied, reading his thought through his eyes. Cameron's eyes shined in appreciation at the unspoken sentiment, and House flashed a warm smile, acknowledging his awareness that she caught the implied compliment.

_*Ring, ring*_

"Answer it, I wanna talk to him," Cameron said.

He flipped his phone open and put it on speaker. "Yeah."

"_Either something very good happened or very bad. Which is it?"_

"Hi, Wilson," chirped Cameron.

"_Cameron???"_

She replied with a laugh.

"_Wow, how are you?"_

"Could be worse." House gave her arm a playful squeeze.

"_Yeah, I bet. So, okay, you two are in the same room, that's a good sign."_

"Yeah, her bedroom! Now, leave us alone!" House snapped.

"House, be quiet," Cameron admonished. "It's okay, Wilson. You were saying?"

"_Are you guys really in your bedroom?"_

"Yeah, we made sweet, sweet love all night long!" said House, obnoxiously.

"House!"

"_Wait, I can't tell if you're joking or serious. Cameron, is this true?"_

"Well—"

"Three times!" House interrupted. Cameron glared at him.

"_Okay, you just went too far."_

"We had a very pleasant night, let me just put it that way."

"_Hmm. A pleasant night spent with House? That's a new concept."_

"Ha, well, I'm grading on a curve!"

"Okay, this is all very nice, but you don't want my ego to get _too_ big or anything!"

"_House, if your ego gets any bigger, you're gonna need your own zip code."_

"Sweet of you to say. Are you finished already?"

"_Cameron, good luck with him."_

"Won't need it," she said. "I'm thanking my lucky stars already."

"_Well, I'm gonna go before the mushiness takes a turn for the worst. Be good, you two."_ Wilson hung up.

House scoffed at the sappy comment she just made. "You're pathetic."

"In a good way."

He sighed and nodded. "True."

With that, they resumed their positions on her bed, turned the sound back up on the tv, and didn't move all day.


	19. Chapter 18

**CHAPTER 18**

_*Ring, ring*_

"I'm gonna kill Wilson," House mumbled into Cameron's stomach.

"Just let it ring," she breathed, her legs wrapped tightly around House's midsection, hands fisted in his hair. She cried out at the irresistible scraping of House's beard as he kissed his way around her torso. His hands were gripping either side of her waist, pulling her tightly to him. His hands became tighter and tighter around her, until she felt bruises beginning to form. She basked in the pain he inflicted on her during this fit of passion. Her grip on his hair was so tight that she yanked his head back. Her position was such that she towered over him, and when his strained face came into view, she ensnared his lips with her own, writhing above him and sucking the life out of him. As they reached the summit, House pulled his lips from hers, reared his head back, and a loud, uninhibited cry traveled from his very core and out his mouth. Cameron, who had never heard such a sound before, was pushed over the cliff herself, and let her own scream join his and reverberate throughout the bedroom. House fell on top of her, both of them quivering and breathing heavily as adrenaline rushed through their bodies. Their audible pants gradually slowed to deep sighs.

Cameron, still out of breath, chuckled at House and said, "That was unexpected."

"What can I say, exploding washing machines just do something to me," House replied as he grabbed the remote and turned off "Mythbusters."

_*Ring, ring*_

"Damn it! That's it, I am changing my number!"

"Yeah, I have to admit he's being a bit persistent."

"He's being damn annoying is what he's being!"

"You gonna get it?"

"He can wait." House squirmed.

"What is it?"

"Nothing," he said, wincing.

"God, it's your leg, isn't it? Was I too rough?" Cameron asked guiltily.

"Ha! Cameron, you could never be too rough."

She smiled seductively. "Is that a dare?"

A slow, devious grin spread across House's face. "Oh, come on," he said, deliberately egging her on. "Do you know you? At your worst, you'd be about as dangerous as a declawed kitten."

She raised her eyebrows, and slowly rolled on top of him and straddled him. She leaned down so that her upper body was flush against his. She kissed him hard and arched her back so as to let her nails scrape achingly slowly down his chest, leaving 8 red lines behind them. She softened her kiss briefly, before quickly biting down hard on his lower lip, deep enough to draw blood. She opened her eyes as she kissed him and saw his face contorted with pain. She knew that she wasn't doing this to him. She lifted her leg up and lifted it back over his body so that she was now kneeling next to him on the bed. She looked down on him with pity, and apologized.

"No, it's okay. You don't have to stop!"

"Okay, I won't stop. I'll just pause." He admired her body as she lithely alit from the bed and disappeared into the bathroom. She came back out with a glass of water and a bottle of massage oil.

"Where's your vicodin?"

"Duffle bag, side pocket."

She retrieved the pills and sat back on the bed next to him, handing him the pill and the glass of water. He eyed the massage oil.

"So, like to keep this stuff handy then? Makes sense, I guess. Never know when company'll show up."

She rolled her eyes at him and smiled. "Believe me, this stuff hasn't been used in quite some time."

"What a crime."

She poured some of the oil into her palm, rubbed her hands together, and started massaging his creviced thigh. Her touch was firm, but gentle, and she slowly kneaded away the tight, clenching pain with all the care a person could give, until there was nothing left, except for the never-ending dull throb. "Thank you."

"My pleasure, believe me."

"I know. Thank you."

_*Ring, ring*_

"Turn that damn thing off!" Cameron started to get up, when the ringing stopped. "I swear, when I get home, I'm gonna shove that thing so far up his—"

_*Ring, ring*_

"Okay, that idiot has no life. Give me the phone."

He prepared to let loose on Wilson, but before he opened his phone, he noticed the caller id. This wasn't a call from "Mother Teresa." It was a 517 area code. A Michigan area code. He frowned.

"What is it?" asked Cameron?

"The area code. It's from where my parents live." He opened his phone. "Yeah?... What do you want?... What happened?... Is she okay?... Oh god…. Yeah… yeah." He flipped his phone closed and rubbed it against his forehead. "You got a car?"

"Yeah, why? What happened?"

"It's my mom. She was in a car accident. She's in a coma."

"Oh, god. Want me to book you a flight?"

"No, it'll be faster to drive."

She pulled on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, and started to pack House's stuff up in his bag while he did the same. She got her purse from the living room and took her keys out and handed them to him wordlessly. He took them in his hands, but said, "How long will it take you to pack your bag?"

She was surprised, yet relieved that he wanted her to go with him. "Uh, 5 minutes."

"Good. Thanks. Can I use your computer to get directions?"

"Yeah, it's in the living room."

He looked at her intensely. "Thanks," he repeated. There was nothing else to say.


	20. Chapter 19

**CHAPTER 19**

Her car was parked a few blocks away. House looked straight ahead as they were walking, though he could sense Cameron's worried glances every few seconds. When her car was in view, she remotely popped open the trunk, both in preparation for dropping their bags off, and to identify her car to House. He tossed his bag in the trunk, then turned to her to grab her bag. Their eyes met as she handed him the bag with both hands, and he slowly broke their gaze as he turned back to the trunk, dropped her bag off, and slammed the door shut. She got into the driver's seat and he sat on the passenger side with the directions in his lap. He pushed the seat back as far as it would go and stretched out his leg as much as he could.

"You gonna be okay?" she asked.

"I'm fine. Let's just go."

They started on in silence. Cameron wondered if this was really a good idea, her coming along. They weren't even officially together, and even if they were, it was just for 2 days. She didn't know much about his relationship with his parents except that he didn't like his dad, his only explanation being that he had and "insane moral compass that wouldn't let him lie to anybody about anything." Beyond that, she was completely in the dark, and she knew that there was no way that was the whole story.

"Get on 290 going east," House said in a hollow voice. She complied. Silence.

"Get on I-90 east. You're gonna be on this road for 200 miles."

"'kay," she replied softly. She waited a moment before gently asking, "Can I ask you a question?" House rolled his eyes at her. "Oh, yeah. You hate that question. Sorry."

"What's your question?"

"Are you and your mom close?"

House sighed. "No." He looked out the window. Cameron looked straight ahead, sensing that he would elaborate at his own pace. After a few moments, he drew in a breath and said, "She's nice enough. Very polite, always put together. Likes things the way she likes them. A place for everything and everything in its place. Could be her motto. She lives her life by that principle."

She took her eyes off the road for a moment to look at him before she asked, "Do you love her?"

"I don't know."

Cameron kept her eyes on the road as she reached over to squeeze his hand. "It's okay if you don't want to talk about it."

"No, it's fine. When I was growing up… she likes everything to look perfect all the time. She worked really hard to make everything just right. The house, her clothes, the cars we had. Everything that was in her control was flawless. But there were some things that happened that she couldn't control." His voice turned cold. "And what she couldn't fix, she simply ignored. There were things going on in our house that she left completely unacknowledged. My dad was… discipline was the most important thing in the world. One time, when I was in 3rd grade, she walked in on my dad beating the crap out of me for missing the school bus. She just turned around and left. Never said anything to me, probably never said anything to my dad. He gave me a high school algebra book with a self test in the back, and locked me out of the house until I finished the test. I had no shoes on, and there was snow on the ground. I wasn't allowed food, wasn't allowed to use the bathroom, nothing, until I finished the test. It took two days. She was in the house with him the whole time and did nothing about it. Things got worse and worse as I got older. He would abuse me, all 'for my own good.' Everything was black and white with him, and if he didn't agree with something I did or said, he would always have a very creative punishment. He wanted me to follow in his footsteps and join the marines, and when I resisted, he burned me with matches. She was there the whole time, silent. Never lifted a finger, never said a word. But when I went off to college, she hugged me and told me she was proud of me. I never saw my dad to anything to hurt her, but in private, I'm sure he didn't treat her much better than he treated me. Yeah, I love her."


	21. Chapter 20

**CHAPTER 20**

Cameron was all but speechless. "I don't know what to say. I'm sorry."

"Not your fault."

"I know, but—"

"It's fine. I don't need your pity."

The comment stung just a little bit, but Cameron knew that when House felt exposed, his reflex was to snap at the people around him.

House broke the silence a few minutes later. "Sorry."

Cameron smiled reassuringly. "I know. It's fine. Thanks for your apology." He studied the directions in his lap silently. "Can I say something?"

"Okay, that's just one step away from 'can I ask you a question.' Let's just put it this way: you never need my permission to speak."

"Well, it's just… I was thinking of something, but I'm not sure you'd appreciate hearing it."

"Well, you have to tell me now."

She drew in a breath. "Well, first I want to say thank you. For confiding in me. That means more to me than you know. But the more important thing is that hearing the story of your background has filled in a lot of gaps in your personality. I understand you more now than I did before."

"Oh? How so?"

"Well, don't hate me, but I can see the similarities between you and your parents. When things happen that she can't control, your mom shuts down. You do just that, but in a completely different way. Instead of being silent and withdrawn, you become snappy and rude. And instead of trying to grasp control by making every controllable aspect of your life seem perfect, you grasp control by making everything appear crappy." His face seemed to be made of stone, and it frightened Cameron. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. I shouldn't have said anything."

"And how am I like my dad?" His voice sounded gentler than she had expected.

"Do you really want me to say?"

"I wouldn't have asked otherwise."

"Well, he punished you brutally and unfairly, but in his mind, he was doing the right thing. You treat people callously whether they deserve it or not." He cringed at the thought of this comparison to his father, although this wasn't the first time the thought had dawned on him. She once again clasped his hand in hers. "The difference is, you really are doing the right thing."

He became embarrassed and his hand became rigid under hers. "Thanks."

"You're welcome."

He never felt so safe in his life. And that scared the shit out of him.


	22. Chapter 21

**CHAPTER 21**

After about 2 hours, House was in agony. He swallowed a vicodin, but still his hands were clenched to his jeans, and his forehead was glistening with sweat.

"At the next rest stop we'll pull over. I need to get gas anyway." He sighed with his eyes closed and nodded. After a few miles, they pulled into a rest area with a gas station and a few fast food restaurants. His leg felt stiff and cramped and he tried to walk off the pain. After Cameron filled the gas tank, she came over to him and said, "Let's grab a bite. Where do you want to eat?"

"Hmmm… McDonald's, Burger King, Wendy's or Steak 'n Shake? So many gourmet restaurants to choose from. I could use a shake, may as well go to Steak 'n Shake."

House ordered a burger and chocolate shake, while Cameron just stuck to a strawberry shake. They took their food outside and ate it sitting on a curb so House could stretch his leg out.

House squinted his eyes and shaded them from the sun with his hand as they were drinking their shakes. "You know what one of my favorite foods is?"

"Nope."

"Chocolate covered strawberries."

Cameron smiled and kissed him on the mouth. He looked into the air thoughtfully and acted as though he was tasting wine. "You know, we better try that again. Not sure that I really got to appreciate the full flavor." She leaned into him and kissed him again. His hand moved up her thigh, and she pulled away before she got to the point where she couldn't stop.

"Killjoy," House pouted.

"I know, I know. I'm so mean. How's your leg."

"It hurts."

"Do you wanna walk for a while?"

"No, let's just go. I can walk when we get there."

She nodded and pushed herself up. She reached for House's bag and empty cup and threw it all away in a nearby garbage can, then accompanied him on the short walk back to her car at the gas station.

House was fairly relaxed until they exited the highway, and he knew he would soon have to face the reality of what was happening. Cameron was aware of the mounting tension. "You okay?"

"Don't have a choice."

She nodded, resigned. "What can I do to help?"

"Nothing you can do."

"Can I ask you a question?"

"What is it?"

"Are you more scared of seeing your mom in a coma or seeing your dad?"

"I'd be happy if I never saw his face again."

She put the car in park outside of the hospital. "You ready?"

"Yeah."

They got out of the car and headed toward the hospital. They grasped hands as they entered the lobby.


	23. Chapter 22

**CHAPTER 22**

As they reached the ICU ward, it seemed that with every step House's gait became more uneven, his hand clenched more to his cane, and his eyes became ice cold. He froze in his tracks when he spotted the silhouette of his father, standing outside of the window looking into her room. Cameron followed behind him, not wanted to get involved in whatever was going to happen. His dad turned when he heard House's cane hitting the ground.

"Greg."

"How is she?"

"About the same as last time we talked. Not so great."

House nodded, looking at the floor. His dad noticed Cameron standing awkwardly behind him. "Who's this?"

"Um, Allison Cameron. We actually met a few years back."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"No, that's okay. It was just a few minutes. I used to work for your son."

"Used to?" He turned to House. "What's she doing here now?" he asked good-humouredly.

House cast a careful glance on Cameron. "I was in Chicago and didn't have a car. She drove me here." Cameron had caught the look he had thrown her, and knew that it was his way of telling her not to take what he was about to say personally. He wasn't going to voluntarily offer up information on his personal life.

"Oh, well, that was nice of her. You guys wanna grab a bite?"

"Actually, I thought I'd go in and see mom, if that's okay."

"It doesn't matter to her, she doesn't know the difference."

House could feel the contempt start to boil within him. Cameron noticed too and, before House could say anything, interjected, "Actually, he just ate on the way here. If it's okay with you, why don't you and I go to the cafeteria while House sits in with your wife?"

House and Cameron had an entire conversation in a split second, communicating to each other with nothing but subtle glances:

_Please, DON'T get involved in this._

_Don't worry, I won't say anything personal._

_Are you sure you're okay with this?_

_Don't worry about me. I'll be fine. Go ahead and see your mother._

"Fine with me," said John House.

"We won't be long, House." With that, he nodded. Cameron reached out her arm to push the door open for him, and looked up at House through her lashes as he past her to enter the room.

_Thank you._

_You're welcome._

Cameron pulled the door closed behind House, and turned to his father, who was waiting for her to join him so they could make their way together to the cafeteria.

"So, you used to work with Greg?"

"Yeah, for 3 years."

"Where do you work now?"

"At a hospital in Chicago called Rush University Medical Center."

"What do you do there?"

"I'm the head of the immunology department."

"So, how long ago did you work with my son?"

"Well, gosh, I started with him almost 10 years ago. It's been over 6 years since I've been gone."

"Why did you leave?" Cameron was slightly surprised by the personal question.

"My… fellowship was up. So I went out and sort of pursued other opportunities," she lied.

"Hmm. So he didn't drive you away then?"

"No… what are you getting at?"

"Nothing, nothing. It's just that, from what I understand, he has a habit of doing that." He sighed. "God knows it did it to his mother and me."

Cameron wasn't sure how to react to that comment at all, so she attempted to skim over it. "Well it's hard for him because he's always so busy, you know?"

"I guess so. What was it like working for him?"

"I liked it."

"Did you really?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't I?"

John chuckled. "It's just that, working those kinds of hours with him, it just seems like a lot to take. He's not the most pleasant person to be around, I know."

"I always enjoyed his company. And he's the most brilliant doctor I've ever worked with."

"Yeah, I know."

"You should be very proud of him." Cameron knew she was treading on dangerous ground, and that if she inched forward just one step, she would be in forbidden territory.

"Yeah," John said, looking off into the distance, just like House did. They reached the cafeteria and got in line to order. They got their food and found a table near the corner of the room.

"So, how is your wife doing? If you would rather not talk about it, that's okay."

"No, it's fine. The, uh, doctors… they didn't actually say anything, but I got the impression that her chances aren't very good."

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah, it's just so unexpected. That's the hardest part. This morning she was fine, and now…. It's just crazy how that happens."

"Yeah, I know. But it's important that you don't lose hope. You never know, she could still come out of this. Don't give up on her."

"Thanks for the encouraging words, but I've learned that just because you want something really, really bad, that doesn't change what was inevitably going to happen." Cameron was studying him, and looking for similarities between the father and son. There were plenty.

"Maybe not, but it couldn't hurt to stay positive. If not for her, then for yourself."

"What's the point?" John asked, rhetorically.

Cameron wouldn't stand for that. "The point is, that no good will come of you mourning her death while she's still here. She's still alive, there's still hope."

John looked at her with a smile that, on the surface, appeared warm and friendly, but underneath reeked of condescension. "I don't think I've ever met a doctor as naïve as you are."

Cameron hardened. "There's a difference between naiveté and optimism."

"I didn't mean to offend you. I am curious, though."

"Of what?"

"Of how someone like you comes to be close to someone like Greg."

"Opposites attract, I guess."

"Do they?"

She looked up at him quizzically. "So the saying goes," she said curiously.

"Yeah, it does say that. Just isn't usually true."

"Well, then, I guess we have more in common than it appears," Cameron said defensively. She didn't appreciate the implication that House wasn't good enough for her.

House's dad scoffed. "Time will tell."


	24. Chapter 23

**CHAPTER 23**

House stood with both his hands on his cane, one on top of the other, as he watched through the door window at Cameron walking down the hall with his father. He was feeling a mixture of gratitude, concern, and fear. He was touched and appreciative that Cameron took the initiative to inconspicuously separate him from his father, but he cringed at the possibility that Cameron would do something to try to bring the estranged pair together, even though he had absolutely no intention to ever repair the tattered relationship that existed between the two. He almost didn't let her go, but decided to trust that she understood all of this, and would act accordingly. He couldn't remember the last time he put that kind of trust in anybody, and it left him feeling like he was balancing on the summit of a mountain, and he was beginning to wonder whether the spectacular view was worth the danger of freefalling to the rocks below. He remembered why it was that he closed himself off to people initially. He was the kind of person willing to take drastic risks on anything, but when it came to himself, he was more comfortable standing on solid ground alone.

After Cameron and his father disappeared, he turned toward his mother. He knew vaguely what he could expect to see, but nothing could prepare him for the sight of his own mother lying there, bruised and bloodied and swollen almost beyond recognition. His throat tightened and his stomach dropped to the basement. His knees buckled underneath him, and he would have tripped if not for the cane. He haltingly stepped forward, as though he was walking into a cold body of water, pausing after a few steps to acclimate himself to the extreme temperature changes before he delved deeper in. He reached her bedside and just stood over her. He didn't believe that she could hear him, so what was the point of talking? He couldn't bring himself to touch her, as it felt so unnatural to him to do so. He got as close as he could to her beside, close enough that his thighs were pressing against the mattress, and just stared down at her with a look of resigned helplessness. He didn't move a muscle for a long time, he just got lost in the rhythmic sounds of his steady breaths and the metered beeping of the machines around her, and his thoughts flowed along at the same andante tempo. He drifted through his memories of his time with his mother. He felt a strange blend of grief and ambivalence as he viewed scenes of his mother packing his lunch for school, presenting him with his birthday cakes, grocery shopping, driving, bathing him, cutting his hair, ignoring abuse, smiling through heartache, and trying to maintain the delicate balance of affection and distance that she learned was key to keeping her son in her life. It was then that he thought that maybe, just maybe, she understood him more than anyone ever had. He looked at the shipwreck of her body, and his conflicting emotions fused together to become one of pure, concentrated pity. It was then that he dropped his head on his chest and began to sob.


	25. Chapter 24

**CHAPTER 24**

Cameron reached Blythe House's room. She lifted her hand to knock on the door, when she heard hollow, choked sobs coming from within. She peered through the window and saw House sitting in a chair with his elbows resting on his knees and his head tucked in toward his chest, his back shaking with the guttural noises that he released from deep in the core of his body. She pushed the door open and rushed to him.

"Get out," he choked. She reached to him. "GET OUT!!!" He swatted her hands away violently, but she stood her ground.

"No." He tried to stop crying but between the agonizing pain in his leg and the intensity of his emotions, he couldn't. It was as if a lifetime of pain, disappointment, anger, was contained in a bottle that had now been uncorked and escaped so fast and strong that it could not be restrained. Outwardly furious and inwardly ashamed, he rose from his chair and stalked to the corner of the room facing inward, where he could hide from Cameron's eyes. She came up behind him and ran her arms across his shoulders and leaned her face into his back. He shrugged her off with a force strong enough to knock her back. Determined not to be dismissed, she approached him again and placed her hands on his shoulders, but this time she gently turned him around to face her. He surrendered. She pulled his head toward her and he buried his face in the crook of her neck, now wet with his sweat and tears. She gently stroked his hair and her soothing voice murmured quiet, indistinguishable words of consolation as his sobs became muffled in her neck. His arms wrapped tightly around her, but gradually relaxed as his sobs were reduced to intermittent gasps, as though someone were wringing out the last drops of water from a damp rag. Her ministrations continued even after he became silent and limp in her arms. He could taste the salt of his own tears on her neck, which he kissed, and kissed again, before lifting his head to meet hers. His lifeless eyes were muted to a transparent, aquamarine blue, swallowed into the depths of his emotionless countenance. The sounds around them reappeared one by one into their consciousness as they descended back into the real world.

The stern face of John House glaring through the window in the door went unnoticed, and disappeared.


	26. Chapter 25

**CHAPTER 25**

"_House, how's everything going? You ever coming back or should we give Collins your office?"_

"Wilson, it's Cameron."

"_Oh, hey! Where's House?"_

"In the bathroom. We're in Michigan. His mom was in a car accident."

"_Oh, god. Is she okay?"_

"She's in a coma. It's not looking too good actually."

"_Think I should come out there?"_

"Maybe. I'll keep you posted on what's happening, and if it takes a turn for the worse, I'll call you."

"_Thanks. How's he doing?"_

"Beside himself."

"_I can imagine. A lifetime of drama condensed into less than a week. Even a well-adjusted person would lose it."_

Cameron breathed a small chuckle. "Yeah, it's really rough. I walked in on him crying in his mom's room."

"_I'm sure he loved that."_

"Yeah," Cameron said noncommittally. His reaction to her consolation probably wasn't something he'd want advertised.

"_God, I haven't seen him cry since… I think since his surgery. I take it his dad's there. They haven't killed each other yet?"_

"They haven't seen much of each other. I've managed to keep them apart so far, but they're going to have to talk sometime."

"_You've been busy. How are you holding up?"_

"Okay, I guess," she said, a bit surprised. She hadn't considered that.

"_You haven't taken a minute to yourself, have you?"_

"He needs someone right now."

"_Yeah. You know, as horrible as this thing is, it's a good thing it happened now that he has you. Just remember to take care of yourself. And call me if you need me."_

"Thanks. I'll talk to you soon."

Just as she flipped House's phone closed, she saw him rounding the corner coming toward her. He looked 10 years older and 10 pounds thinner. She walked up to him wordlessly and nestled herself under his arm. He kissed the top of her head and gave her a comforting squeeze. She looked up at him with an encouraging smile, and the two of them sat next to each other on the bench outside of her room. She offered him her hand, and he accepted it, holding it between both of his on his lap, rubbing and squeezing and playing with it nervously.

"Have you seen my dad?"

"He's in there with her."

He sighed and nodded and looked at the floor. A moment later, the door opened and John House walked out. House dropped Cameron's hand. His whole body tensed as his father sat down next to him on the bench and rested his head against the wall, looking up at the ceiling. "How much longer is this gonna go on?"

"Hard to say," House responded coldly.

"Come on, you've been a doctor for 30 years and you don't have a better answer for me than that?"

"Mr. House, I'm sorry. There's no way anyone can know at this point. The doctors here are doing everything they can for her, and your son and I are both watching her condition very closely, but for the moment it's out of our control." It was obvious to Cameron why House hated his father. The worst part about him was that when he made those kinds of comments, he really did mean them jokingly. He was just the most insensitive man imaginable, and thought that if someone was offended by something he said, that was a reflection on them, not himself, and if they couldn't take a joke, they were weak.

"Well then what's the point of being here?"

With that, House stood up and headed toward the elevators.

"Greg, where are you going?"

"Well, if there's no point in being here, why am I here?" The elevator arrived. "You coming?" he said to Cameron, and she joined him in the elevator. House glared at his father as the doors closed.

"Where are we going?" asked Cameron.

"To get a hotel. I'm not staying here all night."

"But what if something happens?"

"She's stable, she's not gonna die tonight."

"What if she wakes up?"

"Then I'll get to see her tomorrow."

Cameron sighed. "Okay." House gave her a curt nod.

In an hour they were situated in their hotel room, having ordered room service for a late dinner. They were lying together on the bed, when Cameron said, "I have a question."

House groaned.

"Do you think it's weird that I call you House and not Greg?"

"Why?"

"I don't know. Now that we've…"

"—Become closer?" he said with a smirk.

"Yeah. You don't think it's weird that I still call you by your last name? I don't know what to call you to your father."

"You don't have to call me anything to him. My mom's probably not going to make it out of this. And if that's the case, neither one of us will ever have to talk to him again."

They lay in silence for a moment, and then House continued talking as if he'd never stopped. "And my mom is the last person in the world that I care about that calls me Greg. When she dies, I never wanna hear anybody call me Greg again."

Cameron nodded. "Good night, House."

"Good night, Allison."


	27. Chapter 26

**CHAPTER 26**

Waking with Cameron tucked beneath his arm gave House the sensation of being born anew each morning. Her presence indicated to him that he had let something into his life and not pushed it away, leaving him starting each day both in triumph and in fear. This morning, Cameron turned into him and asked, "When do you wanna go?"

"Few minutes. Let's just lie here for a while."

"Mmkay." Cameron snuggled into him, and he lowered his eyes to the top of her head with an amused look on his face. "What?" she asked, smiling.

"What makes you think it's okay to do that?"

"Do what?"

"Invade my personal space like that. What makes you think that would be okay with me?"

Cameron, puzzled, pulled her head away from him slightly and said, "Is it not okay?"

"I didn't say it wasn't okay. I asked what would make you think it would be okay."

"I just… felt like you needed me there. What, why?"

House gave a half smile. "It's just unsettling. I don't know if you know this about me, but I'm what some people might call 'a bit guarded'."

"I'm with ya there."

"I've spent quite a bit of time developing new and strange techniques of self-preservation, which I keep carefully secured in an airtight, bullet-proof safe buried in an undisclosed location of an undiscovered island, the combination of which I have meticulously selected and then translated into Portuguese, and then translated _that_ translation into the ancient Mesopotamian language of Eblan, so as to assure that no living soul could ever crack the code. _You_, however, seem to have a suspiciously uncanny ability to read me, which, quite frankly, freaks me out a little bit."

Cameron stared House dead in the eyes and said mischievously, "I had your little code cracked a week after I knew you. Just never actually opened the safe… till now."

"You are one cunning little nymph, and it is a massive turn on." He leaned over her and his arms slid around her shoulders.

His lips were about to reach hers when she spoke abruptly. "Yes, and I have even deduced that you are trying to use me to avoid facing your parents in that hospital. Come on, we have to get going." He groaned.

"Well, what if I am? Maybe I need an escape, ever think of that?"

Cameron was already out of the bed, busying herself going around their hotel room, gathering clothes for the two of them to wear. "I did think of that. But maybe you can't escape from all of your problems. Let's go, up and at 'em." Her tone was playful, and designed to frustrate him. She disappeared into the bathroom and House heard her turn the shower on for him.

"Come on, I thought you wanted to be there for me."

"Well, I don't know what made you think that," she called from the bathroom. "Come on, I've got your shower started."

House dragged himself out of bed and walked into the bathroom, his mouth open in mid-whine, when he was silenced by the sight of her waiting for him in the shower. She smiled innocently. "What? I told you we had to get going. We'll be ready twice as fast this way."

House took in the sight of her standing under the spray of the water, her hair soaked and her skin glistening. "How efficient. Killing two birds with one stone?"

"Yeah. Or three," she smiled. He jumped into the shower and took her in his arms.

Forty-five minutes later, Cameron panted, "Well. I guess that didn't really save much time after all, huh?"


	28. Chapter 27

**CHAPTER 27**

Cameron's hair was still damp as she and House entered the hospital. They walked side by side to the elevator and rode up in silence. House felt much less oppressed than he had the day before, and he felt marginally better equipped to handle what might be thrown at him that day. He squeezed the handle of his cane in silent preparation as the elevator doors parted, and he held his breath at the prospect of once again seeing the silhouette of his father outside the door of his mother's hospital room. He was surprised and relieved to find the hallway deserted, and his gait quickened slightly as he became eager to take advantage of what might very well be his last moments spent alone with his mother. His expression hardened into a puzzled frown when he peered through the door to find the room deserted. He shot a look back to Cameron, who wrinkled her forehead questioningly.

"She's not here."

"What?"

"Look, she's gone."

Cameron saw the empty room for herself. "This is the right room, right? 324?"

"Yeah, of course it's the right room. She must have been moved out of the ICU."

"Thank god! Let me go ask somebody." She walked down the hallway for a short time until she reached a nurse's station, with House following a few feet behind her.

"Excuse me," Cameron said to a young man in scrubs at the desk. "We were wondering where they moved the patient in room 324. Blythe House."

"I'm sorry. Blythe House passed away last night. Her husband took her off life support."

There was an earsplitting crash as House's cane smashed down hard on top of the desk, demolishing the keyboard and sending keys, pens, paperclips, and staples flying into the air. The nurse jumped back and Cameron shrieked in surprise as House leapt toward the desk, pushed her to the side, and came within inches of the nurse's shocked face, growling, "The husband, where is he?"

"Chapel, last I saw," the flabbergasted nurse stammered.

"Where?"

The nurse pointed to a sign mounted on the wall, with an arrow pointing left. "Down the hall and to the left."

House bounded down the hall without his cane. Cameron was running to catch up with him. "House! House, what are you gonna do?" He didn't hear a word she said. His mind was focused on one thing only, and that was the set of double doors 80 feet away from him. He quickly reached the entrance to the chapel, and Cameron grabbed his shoulder with both hands. "House." He felt nothing. He flung open the doors recklessly and was met with a silent room bathed in a warm, reddish glow. He glanced over the space savagely, his eyes skimming over a sparsely populated arrangement of benches. His stare fell upon the one set of eyes that did not widen in surprise at his loud entrance, a figure bathed in shadow in the front corner of the room, staring down at his lap in reverent contemplation.

"You BASTARD!!!!" House roared. His father's gaze remained frozen on his lap, and House hobbled over toward him, yelling, "You killed her!" John House lifted his steel grey eyes to meet with his son's clear blue ones. All the other occupants scurried out of the chapel at this revelation, blowing past Cameron's tear-stained face as she retreated into the back corner of the room, looking on helplessly at the two men.

"She died, I didn't kill her," John House stated calmly.

"There was no goddamn reason to pull the plug before I could say goodbye! You killed her to hurt me, you son of a bitch!" John started to stand, but House shoved him violently back down.

"Keep your goddamned hands off me," John hissed, and started to stand again. House slugged him square in the jaw and he stumbled back onto the bench with a grunt.

"I could kill you, you piece of shit!" House screamed as he bent over his father and wrapped his hands around his neck. John's adrenaline surged and he hurled himself off the bench and shoved his son back into the wall. House crashed back and fell to the ground, at which point John started viciously kicking him repeatedly in his side. Cameron screamed and leapt across the room, trying desperately to pull him off of his son, but John House was a strong man who knew how to fight, and her small hands and arms were no more of a nuisance to him than a gnat might have been. All at once, Cameron felt herself being pulled back, and looked behind her to find herself in the arms of the nurse to whom she had spoken earlier. He dragged her back as two security guards converged on the two men and eventually succeeded in separating them, at which point Cameron broke from the nurse's hold and ran sobbing into House's arms, partly seeking comfort, partly seeking to give comfort to him. He clutched to her for dear life, for the same reasons as she clung to him, rubbing his rough face against hers, muttering, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." She was sobbing too hysterically to assure him that he had nothing to be sorry for, so she just moaned into his neck and grabbed at his biceps and back. The guards ushered the three of them out of the chapel and into the hallway. One of the guards escorted John out of the hospital, while the other asked House if he was okay. When he was convinced that everything was under control, the security guard left, leaving Cameron and House alone in the hall. Cameron was clutching to House's chest and he had his arms wrapped around her protectively.

"Are you okay?" House asked.

"House, I'm fine, don't worry about me." She felt horrible that she reacted the way she had. Here she was standing here crying, when House was the one who had just lost his mother. "I'm so sorry, I…." She trailed off, not knowing what to say.

House had no response. He couldn't tell her everything was okay, because it wasn't. His mother was gone. He hadn't said goodbye. As much as he despised his father, he never would have thought him capable of doing what he did. All of a sudden, he felt hot, oppressed. Cameron could feel him start to squirm in her arms and looked up at him worriedly. "Are you okay?" He pulled away from her quickly, turned his head, and wretched. Cameron flagged down a nurse and asked her to bring a wet washcloth and some water. She walked House over to a bench and sat him down. When the nurse returned, Cameron thanked her and started wiping down House's face and neck with the washcloth while he slowly sipped his water.

"I just… I never thought… even him…" House stammered.

"Shh, I know," said Cameron gently.

"He used her. He _used_ her." House's face was eerily pale.

They sat in silence.


	29. Chapter 28

**CHAPTER 28**

"Wilson and Carrie are coming in for the wake tomorrow. Cuddy can't get away right now, but she'll be here for the funeral on Saturday."

"They don't have to come."

"They know that, they just want to come. That one's nice." House stepped out of a department store dressing room wearing a black suit. "Yeah, I like that one a lot," Cameron said, staring him up and down thoroughly.

House thought he detected a strange look in her eye. "What? What is it?"

"No, nothing. I like that one." Cameron squirmed ever-so-slightly.

House's expression remained somber, but his eyes glittered. "Are you getting turned on?"

"House, no, God!" Cameron's cheeks burned red.

"You are," House said with a smirk creeping excruciatingly slowly across his face that did nothing to help Cameron in her current state.

"No, that's horrible! Stop it!"

"Allison Cameron…"

"House, stop it!"

"…you little nympho!"

"Cut it out!"

House was endlessly amused at this situation and found her humiliation utterly endearing. She buried her head against the wall out of shame and embarrassment, but she could feel his eyes on the back of her head. "It's not funny," she said into the wall.

"Actually it's very funny."

"It's terrible, we're looking for clothes for your mother's funeral and I…"

"Well, who can blame you really? I am deadly in a suit. Frankly, I'm offended you're still conscious—women are supposed to swoon at my feet."

"House, you're looking for excuses to ignore your situation."

"Well, what the hell is wrong with that?" he snapped. "Because my mother died, I can't have one moment of enjoyment?"

"No, it's not that, I just don't want you to lose perspective."

"Why, what does it matter if I lose perspective? Do you think my mom cares that for 2 seconds her death wasn't right in the front of my mind?"

"I'm not thinking of your mother, I'm thinking of you. I know how you work. You look for distractions to take your mind off of issues that you don't want to face, and then you ignore the problem and never face your feelings."

"Again, so what? Maybe that's how I deal with things, what does it matter?"

"It matters because I don't want to help you hide from the world."

"What do you care?"

"I care because I care about you. And I like to think that you care too. Because when you shove those feelings down without facing them, they come out as weapons attacking the people close to you."

"Yeah, well, that's why I make sure there are no people close to me."

Cameron stroked his hand. "There are now."

House nodded. "I don't want to hurt you." Cameron smiled slightly and started to turn away. "But I'm going to." She turned back to him, concerned. He shook his head. "You know I am."

"That may be true, but I'm gonna do my best to keep that from happening, and I hope you will too."

"I will. But you know as well as I do that my best has never been good enough."

She replied by giving him a small smile and a look of quiet understanding, before she snapped her attention back to the matter at hand, gave his suit a final once-over, and said, "Well, I think that's the one. Let's get going."


	30. Chapter 29

**CHAPTER 29**

"So, how are you holding up?" Wilson asked House, once he had gotten properly settled in the backseat of Cameron's car, following the compulsory hugs and handshakes.

"Never been better, thanks for asking," House snapped. Cameron caught a glimpse in the rearview mirror of Carrie Wilson's petite frame tensing slightly, and it caused her to smile imperceptibly. She felt privileged to perceive what most people found to be abrasive and annoying as something intriguing and endearing. It made her feel like she spoke a language no one else could understand, which drew her that much closer to House—she loved to live in that secret world of his, where what was right was right, what was wrong was wrong, and anything in the middle didn't matter. She glanced at her rearview mirror and caught Wilson watching her eyes and studying her expression. He gave a small, knowing smile, which she reciprocated as if to acknowledge that she knew he was onto her.

"I just thought you might want to talk about it."

"How long have you known me? And you still don't get that I'm not _you_, I don't need to skywrite my feelings for all the world to see."

Wilson scoffed. "Yeah, you're right, if only more people could find such inspiring and healthy ways of managing their emotions as you do. Have you thought about writing a self-help book?"

Cameron smirked at the banter between the two men. "Wow, some things never change, huh?"

"Does that surprise you?" Wilson asked.

"It comforts me," Cameron replied with a smile.

"Well, if you won't talk about your mother, maybe you'll tell me what's going on with you two?" Wilson persisted.

Cameron looked straight out on the road, but she could feel House lift his eyes to hers for a split second to search for a reaction, and then immediately shift past her to look at the view outside, in a failed attempt to disguise the reason for his glance. "I saw that," said Wilson, making Cameron chuckle quietly. House glared at her, and this time she returned his stare.

"Hey, I know better," she said with a smile. "I'm not saying anything till I hear it from you." She met Wilson's eyes in the rearview mirror again. "Although, he did tell me he loves me."

"Hey, that's not fair!" House snapped playfully. "We were in bed, she was all over me, I didn't know what I was saying." Cameron rolled her eyes at him. "What can I say? I just did it to get into your pants."

"If I remember correctly, I don't believe I was wearing pants at that point."

"Making it all the more unfair. What's a man to do, I'm only human!"

Wilson was practically pulling out his hair in the backseat at this conversation, and Carrie was cracking up. She took an immediate liking to Cameron, and even found herself liking House when he was with her. Most of the rest of the car ride was spent with Cameron and Carrie getting acquainted, and the mood was light considering what it was that brought the Wilsons to Michigan. House chose not to participate in the conversation, and just stared out of the window for entire length of the drive to the hotel. After Wilson and Carrie checked in, the two of them left to get some lunch, and Cameron and House went back up to their room to get ready for the wake, which was scheduled to start in a little over 2 hours.

They dressed in silence. House was ready to go long before Cameron, who was in the bathroom doing her hair and makeup with the door barely cracked open, just enough for House to catch occasional glimpses of her leaning over the sink, or walking to and from her suitcase propped on a luggage stand next to the bath. He was wearing his shirt rolled up to his elbows with his collar unbuttoned, and had his jacket and tie draped over a chair across the room, with his shoes sitting on the floor beneath them, and he lay on the bed with the remote and clicked on the tv, flipping through channels mindlessly. Cameron emerged from the bathroom looking utterly breathtaking. She had set her hair in curlers, and it fell over her shoulders in soft, honey brown tendrils. Her lips glistened under the understated lip-gloss she chose, and her eyes shone sympathetically from her smooth, clear face.

"Damn," breathed House at the sight of her.

"Thanks," she whispered.

She sat facing him on the bed and placed her left hand on top of his, while her right stroked his exposed forearm. House's eyes moved from her hands on his skin up to her eyes and locked there intensely. There was the slightest hint of disbelief in his serious expression; he wasn't sure he would ever get used to having Cameron next to him, to comfort him, laugh at him, hold him, save him from himself. "I really do. Love you," he said. "I mean, I really, really do."

Cameron kicked her heels off and slid her body against his and nestled close to him, with her mouth against his cheek. "I really love you too," she said, and gave him a simple peck on the neck. He slid one of his arms close around her, and they lay that way for half an hour in silence, except for the quiet din of the television in the background.

When the time to leave came and passed, they finally got up and started to put their shoes on. She grabbed her purse, he grabbed his jacket and tie, and she stopped and watched him put on his tie. He met her stare. "I really do. So much. Really."

"Me too," he replied.


	31. Chapter 30

**CHAPTER 30**

"This is pointless, I don't even know any of these people."

"I know, but it's just a couple more hours."

"The only people I know, I don't want to see."

"I thought your Aunt Elizabeth was nice."

"Yeah, well that's because you've never seen her sober." Cameron smiled, but her face quickly twisted into an expression of alarm as her gaze focused from House's eyes to somewhere behind his shoulder. House put a hand on her shoulder and knitted his brow. "What's the matter?"

Cameron tried to ease her expression, but fell short as House looked behind his shoulder to see what was troubling her. His own face hardened as his father walked casually toward them. House cringed as his father put his arm around his shoulder and slapped his back a few times. "How ya holding up, son?" House shrugged. "Well, it's a terrible thing that happened. Never sick a day in her life, dies at 75 years old without any warning. Really makes you appreciate the day to day, huh?"

House was feeling slightly sick at the Hallmark card being spouted out of the mouth of the man who had done nothing but hurt and disappoint him, and Cameron stood in awe and wondered if she had ever witnessed such hypocrisy in her whole life.

"Yeah, I'll think of her every time a bird sings," sneered House.

"You know, everyone expects you to give a eulogy tomorrow, son. I hope, for your mother's sake, that it's more sincere than that."

"Why don't you give it?"

"I am. And so are you."

"Greg? Well, hello, darling, how are you holding up? Terrible, I know. You look exhausted—and so thin, are you okay? How's the leg? Still hurts, yes, I know. My back is acting up too, so I know how you feel. I used to take two Advil, but now I take three. I've been meaning to call you about that—is it okay to take more than the recommended dosage? I only ask that because I haven't been sleeping well lately and I'm hoping it's not a permanent side effect of over-medicating. Isn't it horrible that this is what brings us together after such a long time? Who's this? No ring, I see. Can't say that I'm surprised. Hi, I'm Greg's Aunt Sarah, you can call me Sarah or Aunt Sarah, whichever you please. What's your name?"

"Aunt Sarah, this is Allison Cameron. Allison, this is my Aunt Sarah," Greg said, throwing Cameron an apologetic look.

"Nice to meet you," Cameron said warmly.

"Oh, Greg she's so sweet! And beautiful too, but do you think she's a little young for you? Of course, women mature faster than men, isn't that right, Allison? I shouldn't talk, of course, Ed is nine years older than I am. Speaking of which, come with me, Greg, we should go find him. I know he'd like to see you, and his tendinitis is acting up again, so he'll probably have some questions for you too…." He looked back at Cameron wistfully as he was ushered through the crowds to the opposite corner of the room, leaving Cameron and his father standing side by side.

John turned back to Cameron, his warm smile oozing with insincerity, and he said, "Sorry for my sister. She's quite a character, but she means well."

"She's very nice." As she replied, Cameron scanned the room with her eyes, looking for Wilson and Carrie.

"You know, I'm glad we have a minute alone together because I wanted to talk to you about Greg."

"Yes?" Cameron tried to will Wilson and Carrie to her, but could not find either of them.

"I don't know what he told you about me, but I want you to know that he was always willful, even as a kid. Never had any respect for rules or authority. He always needed special guidance, or he never would have had the discipline to get to where he is today. He probably told you all sorts of stories spun around to make me look like a pretty bad guy." Cameron finally caught Wilson's eye, and he quickly tapped Carrie on the elbow and the two of them rushed over to the rescue. John chuckled. "He sure was good at that. Even got his own mother against me a couple times. But she knew, ya know? She knew that he liked to exaggerate, and she knew that my son needed to be disciplined. And deep down, I think Greg knows that I was right too."

"Why are you saying this? What do you care what I think?" Cameron was running out of noncommittal responses for this man, and she could feel her stomach churning with disgust.

He flashed that saccharine smile once more. "Just clearing my name."

Cameron reciprocated with an equally forged smile, and said through her teeth, "No need."

"Hey, John, how're you holding up?" Wilson stuck out his hand and clasped John's heartily. Cameron smiled inwardly. Wilson's gift of fake sincerity put her and John House to shame.

Rather than putting up with more of John's contrived sympathy-seeking banalities, Cameron excused herself and went with Carrie to the ladies room. When the two of them returned, they saw Wilson engaging John in an impressively superficial discussion of his favorite local golf courses. Cameron turned to Carrie with raised eyebrows. Carrie smiled and said simply, "I know. He's good."


	32. Chapter 31

**CHAPTER 31**

"Carrie called me. She and Wilson just picked Cuddy up from the airport and they're bringing her back to our hotel. They should be back there in a little over a half hour from now."

"Okay."

"It's a quarter to seven right now. This'll be over in an hour and 15 minutes. I'm sorry, I know today has been hell for you."

House was sitting on an uncomfortable chair in the corner of the room opposite the closed casket. His left elbow was resting on a small side table next to him and his forehead was resting in the vee between his own thumb and forefinger. A defeated smile crept over his worn face and he breathed a small sigh. Cameron was standing above him, but she knelt down now and placed her hands on his knees. He used his right fingers to play with her hands for a moment, and then shifted his position so that his elbows were resting on his knees and he leaned far forward in the chair so that they were face-to-face, forehead to forehead. He took one of her hands in each of his, and her eyes widened in surprise. He had never expressed such tenderness to her in a public place, and she was caught off-guard. He breathed heavily enough that she could feel the warm air on her face.

"Wilson and Carrie are going to dinner with Cuddy at the hotel. They invited us to go." House's eyes were hollow and his skin was ashen as he looked at her pleadingly. "Don't worry. I told them not to expect us. We can get room service in the hotel."

"Thanks." He looked down at their joined hands for a moment, before saying, "Let's get out of here." He firmly wrapped his hand completely around hers and led her toward the exit. He could see his father out of his peripheral vision and could feel his eyes following him as he left, but he made no acknowledgment of this whatsoever as he stalked out of the funeral parlor with Cameron in his grip.

When they reached their hotel room, the first thing House did was to kick off his shoes, roll up his sleeves to the elbow, and collapse on the bed. He brought his hands up to either side of his head and massaged his temples, as if the motion would purge his mind of the stress from the day. He pulled out his bottle of pills from his pocket and downed two of them at once. As he popped the lid back onto the bottle, he caught a glimpse of her walking toward him with a glass of water in her hand and a frown on her face.

"What?" he snapped.

"Nothing."

"Yeah, right," he grunted, more to himself than to her. "I remember that look."

She extended the glass of water to him. "I'm just worried—"

"Yeah, well cut it out, okay? I can take care of myself," he said, refusing the drink. She placed it on the nightstand and turned to rummage through her luggage. She pulled out the nightgown that she had brought and carried it with her into the bathroom and closed the door behind her. House could hear the water running and the sound of it splashing against her face. He imagined her wearing the nightgown, bent over the sink, her face bare and clean, and her hair hanging loosely down her shoulders and back. He heard her brushing her teeth and could almost taste the mint on her breath. Guilt swept over him. Why did he have to push everyone away? Why did he have to hurt everyone who reached out to him? He felt alone and uneasy—almost afraid, and yet at the same time, he didn't regret his actions. She knew him, right? He had even warned her, which was more courtesy than he gave most of the people who walked into his life. He heard the water start to run in the bathtub, beating down hard and echoing off the walls behind the door. He stood up and staggered to the bathroom door without the help of his cane. He pushed open the door, not knowing yet whether he was going to apologize to her or tell her he didn't want her or anyone else in his life; not knowing, in fact, whether or not he _did_ want her in his life. The door opened revealing her perched on the side of the bathtub, facing away from him. The nightgown she was wearing was a rosy shade of peach, almost the color of her skin, and it dipped down low in back. She had her hair clipped up, exposing her neck and back completely; she was the color of sand and the texture of pearls, and looked like a sunrise. He wanted her, but how, and how much of her? He wanted her in the most primal and possessive sense—he wanted that body to be his, he wanted to claim her for himself, and share her with no one. He wanted her in a protective, almost paternal way—he wanted to shield her from being wounded, physically and emotionally. He even wanted her to rely upon, to trust and depend upon as blindly as a child depends on his mother. But what he wasn't sure about was whether he wanted her enough to allow her to intrude on his life, on his feelings, on his heart. He wasn't sure he wanted her enough to change. She lifted her arm to remove the clip from her hair, which fell gracefully over her shoulders. He was mesmerized and aroused, and let out a small groan in appreciation of the beautiful sight.

Cameron chuckled quietly and turned to face him. "I can't lie. I knew you were standing there. The letting my hair down thing was completely intentional."

House conceded with a sigh and a smile. "Either way, it worked. You got me."

"Thanks," she murmured, then turned away from him again to turn the water off. His hands were absolutely itching to touch that skin, that face. She rose and drew herself up to her full height, which, in her bare feet, only reached House's neck. He used his right hand to cup her face, while his left explored her arm and shoulder as he kissed her gently on the mouth. She reached her left hand up to place it on top of his right and slid her hand up and down his bare forearm. He lifted her nightgown over her head and dropped it to the ground, and then wrapped his long arms completely around her, cocooning her in his embrace and deepening his kiss. Her bare body pressed against his clothed one tightly, making her feel particularly vulnerable, and blissfully protected. House groaned into her mouth, and then pulled away from her. She looked up at him, wide-eyed and expectantly, until he spoke:

"This is gonna sound… really lame."

"Okay…"

"I said something to you before, but, uh…" He paused for so long, Cameron wondered if he had given up.

"Yes?"

"I didn't want you to, but now… I, uh, wouldn't mind if you wanted to call me Greg."

She almost laughed, but stopped herself in time. She unbuttoned his shirt and reveled in the pleasure it gave him to have her nibble and kiss on his chest.

"I love you, Greg." They fell together onto the floor of the bathroom and gave into one another completely, and as she reached her climax, she shouted his name, sending shockwaves throughout his body and bringing him to a greater state of pleasure than he'd ever experienced. They remained in each other's arms on the floor of the bathroom, their entwined bodies keeping them warm, and their breathing perfectly in sync, long after the untouched water in the bath had turned cold.


	33. Chapter 32

**CHAPTER 32**

Cameron was roused from a state of semi-consciousness by a strange rumbling sound coming from beneath her. She opened her eyes and lifted her face up to House's.

"Sorry," he said. The rumbling she'd heard came from House's stomach, upon which she had been resting her head.

"What time is it?"

House checked his watch. "Almost 9."

"Wow, already? If we're gonna order dinner, we better do it now."

Neither of them moved.

Finally, Cameron let out a grunt as she pulled herself up from the floor. "Come on, it'll be more comfortable in the bed anyway," she said, offering her hands to House.

"Come on _who_?"

"Come on, Greg," she said, beaming.

He took her hands and pulled himself up. His leg was stiff, whether from the exertion of lovemaking or laying stationary afterwards, he didn't know, nor did he care. Either way, it was worth the pain. He limped over to the nightstand to grab his bottle of Vicodin, and tipped a pill into the palm of his hand. Cameron emerged from the bathroom behind him wearing her nightgown, and when he saw her, he picked up the glass of water he had refused before and exaggeratedly raised his eyebrows, as if to say, "Happy now?" The smirk on his face made it clear that he was mocking himself and acknowledging the fact that he had acted childish before.

A wide smile spread across Cameron's face. She walked over to him and ran her hands through his hair. "See, was that so hard?"

He tilted his head from side to side, pretending to weigh the pros and cons. "Well, in retrospect, I suppose there might have been an easier way to handle that situation. But, then, of course, no make-up sex."

She looked into his eyes seductively. "We don't need to have a fight to have make-up sex."

"We do, actually. It's in the title. And, I hate to break it to you, but now that I know how good make-up sex is with you, you can pretty much count on me pissing you off on a regular basis."

Cameron leaned into him so that her lips brushed against his ear as she spoke. "Let me give you a little tip, _Greg_." He shivered as the hairs on the back of his neck stood at attention. "If you like it when I make up with you, just wait till I reward you for good behavior." She took his earlobe in her mouth and sighed into his ear. His hands found their way to either side of her hips and he nuzzled his face against hers, his stubble tickling her jaw and making her toes curl. House's stomach growled again, and Cameron broke away from him.

"Hey, you were rewarding me for good behavior!"

"What good behavior? You haven't done anything yet!"

"Sure I have. I was very compliant with you while we were having make-up sex."

"Nice try. Come on, we need to order dinner before the kitchen closes. And, I know you don't want to think about this, but we do have to be up early tomorrow, and by that time, you need to have a eulogy ready."

"I'll improvise."

"You'll improvise your mother's eulogy? Greg, please."

"Okay, the only reason I am going along with this is because I am hungry and horny and not thinking straight."

"Well, I don't care about the reason, just as long as you obey me."

"Yes, mistress."

Cameron got on the phone with room service while House pulled on his pajama pants and t-shirt. When the food came, they set the tray on the bed and Cameron took the hotel stationary and pen lying on the table in the room and brought it over to House so he could start taking notes.

"I haven't even been to a funeral in years. I don't know how to write one of these."

"Don't worry about it. There is no wrong way to do this."

"Got any suggestions—maybe a little more specific than 'there's no wrong way'?"

"Well, share a few good memories, keep it nice, and whatever you do, leave your father out of it."

"Thanks a lot," House said, tapping the pen against the pad of paper.

"No, it's just… I'll be happy to help you write it if you want me to. I just don't want to intrude."

"You won't." House's voice was humble and gentle, a rare combination that Cameron felt honored to witness.

"Okay," she said softly. "Well, maybe you could talk about how your mother supported your decision to go into medicine?"

"Yeah, that sounds good. How about something like, 'Even when good ol' dad set me on fire, you were there to wait until he was good and done, then secretly say you were okay with me making a decision for myself.'"

"I wouldn't have worded it exactly like that," Cameron said, a bit offended. "I know this is hard for you, but you gotta do it."

"Sorry."

"You could say something along the lines of, 'she was always there to support you, no matter what adversity you faced.'"

"You're good. You've done this before." Cameron looked up at him, frowning. He instantly realized what he had said. "Jesus, Allison, I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking of that."

"House, it's fine," Cameron said, exasperatedly.

"What'd you call me?" House asked with no humor at all.

"Greg, House, whatever. It's fine, but can we please get this done so neither of us has to worry about it tomorrow?" House nodded, knowing he would need to do some damage control after that last comment. He set about the unpleasant task with a reverence and focus he hadn't had before. After 2 hours, Cameron was able to say:

"Okay, now read the whole thing from the beginning."


	34. Chapter 33

**CHAPTER 33**

"Cuddy! It's great to see you!" Cameron's pace increased to a trot as she broke away from House and lithely darted around the tables in the hotel restaurant and made her way to the open arms of her former employer.

"Cameron, you look fantastic!" The two women met in a warm embrace.

"You too! How's everything?"

"Everything's good, really good." By this time, House had caught up to them.

"Wow," he said, leering at the two women playfully. "Christmas came early this year."

Cameron smiled admonishingly at him, and Cuddy went over to give him a hug. "House, I'm so sorry about what happened." House tepidly returned the hug, then stepped back, leaning on his cane. "Are you doing okay?"

"I'm fine."

"Good," she said gently. "Glad to hear it."

House, Cameron, and Cuddy joined Wilson and Carrie, who were already seated at the table.

"So," House said to Cuddy. "How's the hospital doing? Killed many patients since I've been gone?"

"House, you have accumulated eight weeks of vacation time… and that's only because you lose most of it if you don't use it. Believe me, there's no rush for you to get back."

"How are the kiddies? Left them home alone for the first time. I hope they're not throwing wild parties and trashing the house while I'm gone."

"Your team's doing fine," Wilson interjected. "In fact, there's been a significant boost in morale since you've been away. I'm not suggesting it's connected in any way, of course."

"Whatever, they're useless without me."

"Oh, yes, I remember. You only hire people who can't function without being humiliated and degraded."

"Builds character," House said, then took a swig of his water just as the server approached their table. After everyone had ordered, Cuddy started asking Cameron about her life in Chicago, her job, her apartment. House appreciated the fact that the conversation wasn't going to revolve around him for the entire meal. The conversation was pleasant, but as the meal wore on, House became increasingly nervous about the speech folded up in his wallet that he would be delivering in just a short while. While speaking in public was hardly a worry for him, displaying his emotions certainly was. Even more than that, though, was the feeling he couldn't shake off that suggested that what he was about to say and do reeked of hypocrisy.

"So, how do you like Rush?" Cuddy asked Cameron.

_When I was asked to give a eulogy for my mother, I knew it was going to be a difficult task. For those of you who know me, this will come as no surprise, but for those of you who don't, one of my defining characteristics is that talking about my feelings to a group of people is not something I am very good at._

"Love it," replied Cameron. "I'm heading up the immunology department there, and I'm working with some of the best doctors I've ever known, next to you and Wilson and House, of course."

"Well, that goes without saying," joked Cuddy.

_But I couldn't refuse. Because I don't surround myself with a lot of people to be close to, and therefore my mother is one of the few people in the world who I truly loved, and who truly loved me. We didn't chat every day, we weren't especially close, but we had a connection that I valued that kept her in my life all these years that went beyond the basic bond between a mother and a son._

"And Princeton-Plainsboro? How's everybody doing back there? Still a lot of the same crew?"

"Most of the department heads are still the same. House has scared off at least four or five of his employees since you left, not surprisingly."

"Six. You're forgetting Hamilton," said House, interrupting the flow of the text of his eulogy racing through his mind.

"Yeah, well he only lasted an hour. He barely counts," chimed Wilson.

_When it came to family, there was no one more loyal, more supportive, more of a giver than my mom. This woman was on the board of the PTA for each of the nine schools I attended between kindergarten and twelfth grade. She chaperoned all the field trips, never missed a piano recital, never missed a meal. She dedicated her life to being there for her family._

"Wow, that Hamilton must have scared easy!" laughed Cameron.

"Well, I don't know. I might have run away too if my boss told me that I had to seduce a patient's mother ten minutes after I walked in the door," said Wilson.

"What???" Cameron shot House a shocked look.

"Hey, that woman was a nympho!" House retorted. "And, if I'm not mistaken, we found out that that was not only a symptom of her undiagnosed syphilis, but that she passed in on to her son while she was pregnant, which ended up being the key to the case!"

"True, but I still think there might have been an easier way to find out about it, short of having an employee get knocked out by the dad," countered Wilson.

"He didn't get knocked out. Just got the wind knocked out of him."

Cameron was laughing, and even Cuddy couldn't hold it in and started laughing through closed teeth.

_Bearing in mind the sacrifices she made for me, and knowing that I never did much to repay her, I knew that I had to accept the invitation to pay tribute to her life. I know that I owe it to her to stand up here, in front of her friends and family, to affirm that she was a very special person, whose life was spent exactly the way she wanted to spend it: caring for those around her. I think everyone here probably realizes that if the world was populated by a few more people like Blythe House, that probably wouldn't be a bad thing. And for that reason, she will be missed, probably more than she knew she would be._

"_Jesus," _House thought as the meal wore on. _"How the hell am I gonna do this?"_

"How the hell am I gonna do this?" House asked aloud in a low voice. The trees and light posts and power lines along the side of the road sped along in a blur outside the passenger window of Cameron's car. House wanted them to slow down, he wanted to pause time and hold it hostage so that he would never reach the moment he was dreading. He looked at the hands ticking on his watch, and mourned the loss of each second that passed, each moment that he lost and could never retrieve.

"This would be hard on anyone, and harder on you than most people. But Greg, you are strong and you have integrity. You will get through this and your reward will be closure on your relationship with your mom, and an end to your relationship with your dad."

"It's a lie."

"Everybody lies," Cameron said, looking straight ahead. After a moment's contemplation, she said, "Do you really think it's a lie?"

"Fine, it's not a lie. But it's sure as hell a manipulation of the truth."

They rode the rest of the way in silence. They pulled into the parking lot of the church where the funeral was being held. Cameron put the car into park, and turned to House. "Ready?"

"To sell my soul? The sooner the better," he said sarcastically.

"Stop making this harder than it is! It's a speech. Two minutes, and it'll be over."

He scoffed at her. The more nervous he got, the meaner he became, and Cameron's patience was running short.

They got out of the car just as Wilson, Carrie, and Cuddy pulled up in Wilson's rented car. House and Cameron waited for them and they all entered the church together, and filed into a pew, making sure House sat on the aisle.

The service began shortly after they arrived. Although none of them had been to a church service in quite some time, they all knew the appropriate responses and prayers and recited them along with the rest of the congregation, except for House, whose head was lowered in silence. Cameron laid her hand on House's maimed thigh gently and began stroking it comfortingly. He didn't acknowledge this gesture, but continued staring down somewhere past the floor.

"And now, Blythe's husband John will say a few words," said the priest.

As John walked up to the altar, Cameron felt House tense underneath her hand. Her heart ached for him.

"I sure have been a lucky man," John began. "A few of you were there when I first met Blythe back in Virginia. I was a senior in high school, she was a freshman, it was the first football game of the year and I was playing quarterback. I saw her face in the stands and thought she was just the prettiest girl I'd ever seen. We won that game, and afterwards we all met up at Mel's Malt Shoppe, remember?" He directed the last part toward a small group of people that House vaguely recognized, who chuckled softly at the memory. "Now, back in those days, I was real shy, but Blythe came right up and started talking to me. We fell in love right there on the spot, and got married the day after we graduated high school. I'd joined the service, and it was just two weeks later that I had to go off and leave that pretty face for a whole year, and when I came back, I had a beautiful son waiting there for me." A few eyes turned to House, who was growing increasingly tense as his father's speech went on. "My son, Greg, was the best gift Blythe ever gave me, and when I saw her mothering him, I fell in love with her all over again."

He chuckled and more people turned to House, with expressions that said "Oh, aren't you lucky to have had a family who adores you so much." He squirmed slightly.

John continued. "There's not many men who can say this, but my wife and I never fought a day in our lives, and up until the day of her car accident," his voice faltered, "we never went to bed without saying our prayers thanking the Lord for blessing us with such a rich life, and always went to sleep with smiles on our faces."

Sniffles and sobs could be heard from the congregation, and House's blood was boiling. He knew very well that John House didn't believe in prayer, and he knew that it was very rare that Blythe went to sleep with a smile on her face. He could remember lying in his bed as a child and hearing the sound of his mother's soft sobs drift out her window and into his. He often joined her.

House reached into his pocket and pulled out his Vicodin. There was one pill left, and it rattled loudly in the bottle. He popped off the cap, and the sound echoed loudly throughout the church. All eyes turned to him.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he said loudly. "Didn't mean to interrupt. There is some beautiful bullshitting going on here, deserves our full attention."

Several people gasped and everyone turned to stare at House. Cameron leaned over to him and hissed, "Greg, don't do this!"

"Don't do what?" he replied so that everyone could hear him. "I'm just sitting here quietly listening to my father telling blatant lies about our family life. Go on Dad, Mom would be proud!"

"Please ignore my son, everybody, he's taking this very hard."

"If by 'this,' you mean your little monologue, then yeah, I'm taking it a little hard." House stood up and turned to face the congregation.

"House, sit down!" Wilson whispered.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he proclaimed. "I know that we're in a church, so the last thing you're all concerned with is reality, but here's the truth about my parent's marriage. Everyone take a good look at my father standing up there. You all know him as a great guy, right? Everybody's pal. Most of you probably envied him, and my mother, and maybe me—that is, if you haven't seen me for over 11 years, before I acquired this bad boy." He brandished his cane for everyone to see it. "He's a man of many talents, but you probably weren't even aware of the one he was best at. Turns out, this guy is one hell of an actor, not only while performing that beautiful, caring monologue—you'll have to tell me what that's from, by the way, 'cause it brought a tear to my eye, really—but he could win an Academy Award for his brilliant portrayal of John House, the caring, kind-hearted, family man, who, with his easy smile and small-town charm, could win the heart of anyone he meets. He's one of those actors that you love to love. That is, until it's revealed that he secretly, oh I don't know, BEATS that little boy he's so proud of without mercy, or maybe tells his lovely wife that she's useless without him. But we don't wanna know that, do we? Let's all have a round of applause for a great guy, and an even greater actor!" He started clapping loudly, amid the shocked audience. "Sorry, mom."

Cameron squeezed past him and ran out of the church. House watched her go regretfully, turned back to the crowd, and said, "I know that was rude of her, but you'll have to excuse her. She's very upset. You know, about losing Blythe and all." With that, he turned and limped slowly and deliberately down the aisle and out the doors of the church, leaving behind him a speechless crowd.


	35. Chapter 34

**CHAPTER 34**

"_LOOKS LIKE I NEED A RIDE"_

Wilson groaned after reading the text message. He showed it to Carrie and Cuddy before he started to text back. _"WHERE'S CAMERON"_

"_HELL IF I KNOW. COME GET ME BEFORE ALL THESE PEOPLE KILL ME"_

Wilson gestured to Carrie and Cuddy and the three of them walked out of the church as discreetly as they could; regardless, all eyes followed them as they left.

They walked outside and House was nowhere to be found, so Wilson called his cell phone. House answered by whispering, _"Yeah?"_

"Where are you?"

"_Are you alone?"_

"Except for Carrie and Cuddy, yeah."

"_Do me a favor and bring the car around the back of the building."_

"What's going on? Where is he?" asked Cuddy.

Wilson sighed exasperatedly. "He's hiding."

"_Yeah, well, you would too if you just desecrated your mother's memory in the presence of all her loved ones. Now come and get me before the mob does!"_

Wilson rolled his eyes and flipped his phone closed. It immediately rang again.

"_Don't roll your eyes at me!"_

"Where are you? Can you see me?"

"_I could hear your self-righteousness over the phone. Now, come pick me up!"_ The line went dead.

"Come on, let's go to the car," Wilson sighed. He pulled around the back like he was told, and saw House peeking out from behind a dumpster. He looked both ways cautiously, then quietly but nimbly limped to the car.

"Go, go, go, go!" he shouted as soon as his door was closed. Wilson complied and they were on the road.

"You're pathetic," said Wilson. "Hiding behind a dumpster. You know, if you'd quit doing stupid things, you wouldn't have to do stuff like that."

"Do we know where Allison is?" asked Carrie.

"I've been calling since we got in the car. It's going straight to voicemail," said Cuddy, with her phone up to her ear. She listened for a moment, then flipped her phone closed. "Yep, voicemail each time."

"Shit," House said softly, running his hand over his mouth. He looked out the window. _There is no way she could have left._

The dashed lines on the road appeared solid as Wilson's speed increased on the highway.

_She said herself she didn't want to change me. How could I not have done what I did?_

The dark grey pavement gave way to a rich black as they reached a part of the highway that had recently been repaved.

_But was it worth losing her over?_

The posts holding the power lines clipped along at a regular speed.

_Of course, if she would leave over this, there's no way this has a future. She said she didn't want to change me. Maybe she never meant it._

An airplane flew overhead.

_What a waste. 6 years of pining for her only to have it end like this. God, I'm a complete idiot. What the hell was I thinking??? From now on, stick to what you know. The more people you let into your life, the more complicated things get. No more. No more of this shit._

House's stomach tied in knots and he felt helpless and claustrophobic. With no choice but to sit in the back seat of Wilson's rented car, with no control over the direction they were going or the speed they were getting there, with no clue as to where Cameron was or what she was thinking, House felt out of place and constricted. He removed his seatbelt.

"Are you all right?" asked a worried Cuddy.

"Fine. Just a little carsick."

"We're almost there. We'll figure out what to do."

House made no reply, just continued to stare out the window lost in his thoughts.


	36. Chapter 35

**CHAPTER 35**

Cameron unlocked the door of their hotel room, and looked around. Everything was so still, so silent, which seemed out of place when compared to her raging pulse and rushing adrenaline. She just had to get out of there. She couldn't be a part of what he did, she couldn't watch her idol fall so far beneath himself, degrade and embarrass himself, make his own mother's funeral about _him_.

She paced the room gathering her thoughts, and with her heart still pounding, she pulled her suitcase onto the bed and started throwing her things into it. She removed her dress and slip and threw them in with everything else, and quickly put on the jeans and t-shirt she had worn on the drive to Michigan. She didn't have much to pack, so it didn't take long, and when she had everything together, she dropped the luggage on the ground with a thud and pulled up the handle to roll it behind her. When she reached the door, she stopped, her chest heaving with each breath. She stood frozen, with her hand outstretched toward the handle, and thought about what she was doing. If she stayed with him, there would be hard times. If she stayed with him, this wouldn't be the last time something like this happened. If she stayed with him, she would have to learn to live with it. Why should she have to bear that?

On the other hand, what would she be leaving behind? Passion like she'd never felt before. A blindingly brilliant mind, a quick wit and keen sense of humor, more talent than one person should ever have. She couldn't bear the thought of losing those strong arms, those large hands, the chest, the beard, the legs, ass, nose, neck, hair, the crippled thigh, and those magnificent blue eyes. A lifetime of the six years she lived without him, made worse by the knowledge of what she had for a moment and lost. Could she do that to herself?

The answer to this mystery was more elusive than even the most complicated and obscure medical cases she had ever known. The differential diagnosis of what would be her future was an infinite list of possibilities, and the course of treatment was unprecedented, experimental, and very dangerous. How would House find the answer?

The room was quickly darkening as Cameron sat on the very corner of the bed leaning forward with her elbows resting on her knees. In her hands was her elastic ponytail holder, which she stretched and twisted while wading through the sludge of ideas and emotions that overtook her whole body.

She was startled by a sound coming from the other side of the door. House's room key. Her stomach fluttered and she raised her head and watched the door slowly open.


	37. Chapter 36

**CHAPTER 36**

The room was as dark as it could get without being dark, and when House entered, the first thing that caught his eye was Cameron's packed suitcase. His eyes followed an imaginary path that led them to the sight of a figure, bathed in shadow, looking up at him from the bed. She was still here.

Although she couldn't see his face, as he was backlit from the hall light, she could see in his stance that he hadn't been prepared to find her there. The door swung closed behind him, and once Cameron's eyes readjusted to the dim light, she saw that his face looked wizened and pale. His eyes were red and his arms hung limp at his sides, as though they weighed 1000 pounds. He stood motionless.

"You're here," he said flatly.

"Yeah," she said quietly. "I couldn't leave." She bolted into his arms and cried, "I couldn't leave!"

House uttered a sound somewhere between a grunt and an "Oh," and he took in a deep breath and wrapped his arms completely around her. His eyes closed and he kissed her hair, thanking whoever that he had her in his arms. With every exhalation, he made a noise, as if all the emotions inside of him overflowed, and spilled out of his mouth as sound. She felt the vibrations of the noises rumbling in his chest as she trembled against him. She took his face in her hands and pulled his mouth to hers in a deep, urgent, and desperate kiss, impassioned by the newfound awareness that any kiss might be the last.

"I want you, I want you so bad," he said in a soft, gravelly voice.

"You have me," she assured him.

"No, I want you more! I want all of you!"

"Greg, you have all of me!"

"No, I want more! Come closer to me!"

"I can't get any closer."

"I don't care, _come closer_!!! I need you!" He couldn't get enough of her. He squeezed her to him as tightly as he could, as if he was preparing for someone to grab her away from him at any moment. Her face and arms were buried in his chest, so that every breath she took was filtered by his scent. "I need you, I need you," he kept muttering. "I need you," he said into her hair. "I need you," he whispered into the sky.

"I'm here, I'm here. Greg, I'm here."

Their muscles were sore from holding one another so tightly for so long, and out of necessity, their embrace slackened, but they still leaned against one another.

Their fit of passion finally ebbed enough that they became embarrassed of how they had just acted, of how exposed they had been and how carnal their need for one another was.

"Wow," said Cameron softly. "I feel like we have no secrets from each other now." She smiled. "I never thought you had it in you," she teased.

"I didn't. What the hell did you do to me?"


	38. Chapter 37

**CHAPTER 37**

"We should at least call them and let them know we're okay," said Cameron.

"They can wait." House turned his body so that they were now face to face in the bed.

"No, come on, you know they're worried about us. Imagine how you'd feel in their position. Wouldn't you be worried?"

"Not worried enough to care."

"Yeah, right," she said with a deliberately patronizing smile. "You know, I was thinking. We need to have a little talk ourselves." This was said with such levity that the phrase didn't scare House as much as it normally would have.

"And by little, are we talking 'can you loan me a fiver' or 'I'm carrying my stepfather's love child'?"

"Mmmm, somewhere in the middle."

"Goody."

Cameron smiled. "Okay, here's the thing. I love you. And I found out today that there is probably nothing you can do to make me not love you."

"What if I murdered someone? Would you love me if I murdered someone? What if you found out I sodomize puppies? Would you still love me if I sodomized puppies?" he asked, feigning stubbornness.

"I said 'probably.' Just to be safe, let's not explore where the breaking point is." Cameron was very cool and composed, her heart was feather light, and her eyes shone with mischief.

"Where's the fun in that?"

"Good segue," Cameron said matter-of-factly.

"What do you mean?"

"All you focus on is the here and now. It's one of the things I love most about you. It's what's exciting about you. It's like every moment is _the_ moment, nothing else matters."

"Okay, so far I'm coming across pretty good in this scenario…."

"That's because you are good. Amazing, actually."

"Something tells me that the point of this conversation isn't to tell me how amazing I am, although I am really enjoying this part."

"Greg," she said, putting her arm around his shoulder. "I could write novels about how amazing you are, but that's not what I want to talk about right now. What I want to tell you is that you need to understand that your actions have consequences."

"I'm gonna stop you right here. I've already had this lecture a million times before, it doesn't work. Can we have sex now?"

"Nope," she said, her eyes dancing.

"Come on, why not?"

"Because. Your actions have consequences," she said teasingly. House looked confused; she continued. "What you did today was selfish and rude. Your dad's a jerk and I know that he provoked you, but you really hurt a lot of people with what you said, even though it was true."

"Truth hurts."

"I know I have to learn to live with these things. I told you I don't want to change you, and I don't." Her voice lowered and she said, seductively, "but I don't think it's too late for you to learn from your mistakes."

"Wow. Didn't realize you were into that kind of stuff. Guess I should have brought the handcuffs and whip after all, but you know, we packed in such a rush…."

She leaned over so that her lips brushed his ear as her mouth formed the words, "That's not exactly what I had in mind."

House was getting completely turned on. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end at the sensation of her breath on his ear. He felt desperate to have her, and his breath caught in his throat in anticipation.

"Oh?" he choked out. "And what, may I ask, did you have in mind?"

Her tongue flicked his earlobe and she felt him quake beneath her. He felt her lips spread into a smile as she purred, "You are not allowed to touch me for 24 hours."

"Mmmm… _what!?_"

She hopped up to a sitting position on the bed and started giggling. "You heard me. No touching for 24 hours. This is the consequence for acting like a child this morning." She gloated, as she had him exactly where she wanted him.

"Wait, wait, wait," he said, determined to change her mind. He was damn good at winning arguments, and this was an argument he couldn't lose. "This isn't fair. I didn't know the stakes when I was going into it."

"It's not my fault that you didn't think of how this would affect everyone. Turns out it's affecting you more than you thought it would, huh?"

"You know what, it's fine. I don't know why I'm so worried. There's no way you'll last 24 hours, so I have nothing to worry about."

"Wow. Since when have you become such an optimist, Dr. House?" she teased.

"Gets me through the day," he said dryly.

"Well, what a coincidence. Because that is exactly how long you have to get through! It is 6:44 right now, so until 6:44 tomorrow, gotta keep your hands off me." She smiled and lithely jumped off the bed and looked in the mirror. "Do you like this shirt?"

"Yeah, it's fine," House said, still in a mini-state of shock.

"Hmmm… I don't know," she said in an exaggerated tone. "I'm just not sure I wanna wear it tonight. Maybe I'll just…" she pulled her shirt off over her head, "try and find something else." She strutted over to her suitcase in just her bra and jeans and looked fantastic. House winced. "Oh, darn. How could I have forgotten? This is the only other shirt I have! Well, I guess I just took it off for no reason at all, then. Silly me." She put her shirt back on and spoke in her normal voice, "I'm gonna call Wilson and Cuddy. Get ready to go to dinner."

Cameron disappeared into the bathroom and House could hear her rummaging through her makeup bag. He sat on the edge of the bed and processed what had just happened. He was dreading the next 24 hours, but felt more than a little proud that Cameron had developed such a cunning plan. He smirked, looked at the bathroom door, and simply muttered, "Shit."


	39. Chapter 38

**CHAPTER 38**

Wilson, Carrie, and Cuddy were waiting in the vestibule of the restaurant when Cameron and House arrived. After they all greeted each other with the usual "Heys," "How ya doings," and "good to see yous," Wilson said, "We put our name in, we're just waiting for them to call us—"

"James, party of 5," the hostess called out.

"Or maybe we don't have to wait," quipped Wilson as they filed through the crowded lobby and snaked their way to a booth near the back. House was directly behind Cameron, much to his chagrin seeing as how her perfume lingered in the air in front of him, tantalizing him with its scent. Cameron and House strategically positioned themselves so they wouldn't be sitting near each other. Cameron slid into the booth on one side, followed by Wilson and Carrie, and Cuddy slid into the other side with House sitting diagonally opposite Cameron. Wilson, Carrie, and Cuddy threw one another split-second speculating looks, which were not lost on House or Cameron, who were both highly amused at the thought that this was cause for suspicion amongst the rest of their party. The server came with a basket of bread and a wine list, and after they had chosen a bottle of wine, she left the basket on the center of the table. Cameron and House both reached for the bread at the same time and their hands almost brushed one another's, until she flinched and grabbed her hand back as if she'd been stung.

"Oh, I'm sorry, you go ahead," schmoozed House, over-accommodatingly. Cameron stifled a laugh as she took a piece of bread from the basket. Once her bread was on her plate, House peered at her for a moment with a conspicuous, probing look, and said, "Okay, coast is clear," and delved into the basket himself.

"Okay, what is going on with you two?" asked Wilson.

Cameron looked at House expectantly, prompting him to spill the beans, wondering what he'd say.

He flashed a look of mock surprise, and innocently asked, "Why, what do you mean?" Cameron smirked amusedly and eagerly awaited their friends' reactions.

"Okay, fine, fine," sighed Wilson. He had learned long ago that the fastest and easiest way to coax answers out of House was to use reverse psychology. His apparent disinterest had the desired effect, and House couldn't resist telling.

"Since you asked, Cameron here has quite a nasty streak to her!" He swung his head toward her and glared at her teasingly.

"I don't believe it," said Cuddy.

"Oh, yeah, she appears all cute and sweet and hot, but underneath those B-cups is a heart as cold as ice!"

"Okay, drama queen, get on with it," Carrie prodded.

"Hey, that's offensive. If anything, it's drama homosexual, but I'm more privy to drama don't-ask-don't-tell."

"House, while we're young!" snapped Wilson.

"Okay, okay. Sorry, Carrie. He gets cranky when he's sexually frustrated." Carrie rolled her eyes.

"I'm not letting him touch me for 24 hours," Cameron stated.

"Hey, I wanted to tell!" whined House.

"And why's this?" asked an amused Cuddy.

"Apparently my actions have consequences."

"That sounds familiar. Haven't I been saying that for years?" asked Wilson.

"Yeah, but unfortunately, you don't have the leverage she does. And by leverage, I mean cleavage." He looked at Cuddy. "You have no leverage either, but at least you have the cleavage."

Cuddy swatted him playfully on the arm, and congratulated Cameron on having more control over him than anyone she'd ever seen. Cameron's green eyes glittered in the light of the candle in the center of the table, and though she was addressing everyone else, she deliberately looked House square in the eye, smirked, and said, "Tip of the iceberg."

House half-smiled at her, gave her a sidelong glance, and said, "Be afraid. Be very afraid."

Cuddy, Carrie, and Wilson watched this compelling scene unfold in astonished silence, happily resigned to the fact that, as far as House and Cameron were concerned, they weren't even there.


	40. Chapter 39

**CHAPTER 39**

"So, do you guys know what your travel plans are?" asked Cuddy.

House and Cameron looked at each other quizzically. They hadn't quite gotten around to that yet.

"Hmm," said Cameron. "Well, I drove here so I'm obviously driving back to Chicago."

"Are you going with her?" asked Wilson.

House looked at her playfully. "Am I invited?"

"Yeah, I'd love for you to come back with me, but is that okay with you?" Cameron asked Cuddy.

"Well, as sad as the staff was when they learned House was taking time off, I think we'll be able to work through the pain for a couple weeks."

"Ya hear that? Mom says it's okay," said House with an appropriately boyish glint in his eyes.

"So when are you guys going back?" asked Cameron, pretending to ignore House.

"Tomorrow evening I think, right?" said Wilson to Carrie.

"Yeah, flight's at 6-something, so we'll be leaving at 3:30 or 4:00," she replied. Cameron saw the two of them interacting with a level of comfort and affection she had never seen Wilson exhibit before. Although she didn't know his first 2 wives, she had see him with his 3rd wife, Julie, but he was never himself around her. That was what was inspiring about watching him and Carrie. It wasn't necessarily that they brought out the best in one another, but that they brought out one another's personality in its purest form. She studied House for a moment and wondered whether they would ever have that. The answer, of course, was they always have.

The rest of the meal was as smooth as glass. One of the great pleasures in life is to be involved with a group of people who really enjoy one another's company. At one point, Carrie lifted her wine glass and said, "I propose a toast. To Cameron. I don't know what kind of magic you perform, but seeing House around you… makes me almost like him." Everyone chuckled, except House, who sneered jokingly at her.

"You say the sweetest things."

At the end of the meal, Wilson and House went out to get the cars while the women went to the restroom.

"So," Cuddy began. "I wanted to talk to you about something. The head of our immunology department just found out she's pregnant, so she'll be going on maternity leave for a few months and isn't sure if she's coming back after the baby's born. How would you feel about coming back?"

"Gosh, I don't know, um… I mean, I really love where I am right now…" Cameron stammered, caught off-guard.

"That's okay if you don't want to leave. But I thought of you the second I found out, and if House hadn't found you, I would have."

"Ha! Could you imagine if I had come back without him knowing? I don't want to know what he would have done. But it's not that I'm not interested, it's just… maybe I should see where this thing with House is going before I commit to moving back up there. I mean, I'd love to work for you again, but I just don't know if it's a good idea to jump into anything."

"Understandable. But just know that you're first in line for the position, so just give me a call."

"Yeah, I definitely will."

The women walked out of the restaurant to find their respective cars waiting for them. Carrie went to give Cameron a hug, and said "It was really great meeting you. Come up to New Jersey and see us, okay?"

"Count on it."

Then Cuddy moved in for her turn and whispered in her ear, "Keep that offer in mind, okay?" Cameron nodded silently. "And good luck with House. You're a braver woman than I am," she said with a wide smile. Cameron feigned a worried expression, then laughed heartily. She walked over to the driver's side of the car to say goodbye to Wilson.

"It was great seeing you. Don't be a stranger," he said.

"You too. Let's not go six years without seeing each other again, okay?" She and Wilson were startled by the blaring of Cameron's horn.

"Hey, quit hogging her," he yelled out the window. "I need her back so I can go back to the hotel so we can not have sex!"

"Take care of him, okay?" Wilson asked affectionately.

"I will. Thanks," she said softly to him. She stepped back and addressed all three of them, saying, "Have a good flight!" As they pulled away from the curb, Cameron got into the passenger seat of her car.

"Better buckle up," she paraphrased, looking mischievously at House. "It's going to be a bumpy night!"


	41. Chapter 40

**CHAPTER 40**

Cameron stood close behind House as he bent over to insert the key card into the slot, and he rolled his eyes when she placed her hand on the doorjamb so that she was leaning over him. When the door gave way, he turned his head to her and said, "Excuse me?" prompting her to smile and back away from him so that he could enter the room without touching her.

He flipped the light on and threw the card, keys, and wallet on a table near the door. Cameron followed behind him, let out a long, loud sigh, and stretched her body as far as it would go. House knew full well that she wanted to tempt him into turning around and looking at her, and thus he refused to do so. Little did she know that his view of her shadow on the wall was almost as erotic, if not more so, as looking at her straight on.

"Well," she said, walking around him so they stood face-to-face. "I don't know about you, but I'm feeling… _dirty_. I'll just be in the shower." She turned around and walked toward the bathroom door, calling behind her as she walked, "Join me if you like. Just remember," she turned to face him. "No touching allowed."

House, although he would have loved to see Allison Cameron naked in the shower, anticipated the embarrassment of being there… watching her… and not being able to do anything about it.

"Nice try. You don't really think I'm that easy, do you? Enjoy your shower—better be a cold one."

"No way. For me, the _hotter_, the better." The door closed behind her.

House, while bummed, was amused at her efforts to drive him crazy, especially since he was doing much better than he expected. If he was in there with her, it would have been rough, but out of sight out of mind, and he laid down on the bed and turned on the tv. The water turned on in the shower and he could hear the glass door open and close as she got in. No problem, as he flipped through the channels and found an old _Three Stooges_ movie that he'd seen a million times before. He didn't laugh out loud, but watched in amusement at the antics on the screen, but at one point he heard a sound that didn't quite fit in. His ears perked up for a moment, but the sound was gone, so he was satisfied that it was on the tv after all. A moment later, he heard it again. And again. It was quiet, but it was definitely there. Was it the tv or not? He pressed the mute button, but all he heard was silence. He went to turn the sound back on, when he heard the sound clearly.

"Oh, shit."

Yup, that was definitely Cameron moaning in the shower. The noises floating into the bedroom were sounds that he had heard before, so there was no mistaking what she was doing. He turned the sound back out and tried to focus on the movie, but it was hopeless. The water was splashing erratically and her body thudded against the glass walls of the shower, and it became too much for him. He laid back on the bed alone and started joining in with her, her cries and moans sending shivers through his body and making his hands twitch and jerk awkwardly. After he achieved his release, he lay panting on the bed in silence, but her moans and grunts continued unabated. He wrinkled his face in bewilderment and wondered how long she'd been in there. She was banging on the shower walls now and her moans gave way to cries that were as regular and persistent as the beat of a metronome. House blinked a few times and raised his eyebrows in disbelief. Finally, her cries softened to hums, and House sighed in relief. _Jesus, finally!_ he thought, but then to his astonishment, her cries rang out again, even more violently than they had before! His eyes bugged out so far that they took his head with them, and he sat with his mouth agape and his neck stretched out, not moving, barely blinking. He looked at his watch. _How the hell…?_ Her voice became high pitched, water splashed against the walls and floor, and finally she became silent. The water, which was now beating a steady, mundane rhythm, continued for a few minutes, then turned off with a squeak and a grunt. House sat amazed, processing the amplified sounds coming from the bathroom. The shower door opened, he heard water dripping to the floor and the _pat, pat, pat_ of her bare feet on the tile. He gulped as the door opened, revealing Cameron standing naked, and dripping wet in the doorway. She wanted to laugh at the stunned look on his face, but she didn't. She simply shrugged and said, "Massaging shower head."


	42. Chapter 41

**CHAPTER 41**

It is damn near impossible for most people to win an argument against Gregory House, but Cameron was beginning to develop a knack for it, which is how she ended up sleeping on the cot they had sent up to the room, while House slept on the bed. Still damp from her shower, she nonetheless lay naked and uncovered on the cot.

"No pajamas, huh?" House asked, rolling his eyes.

"Nope," Cameron replied mischievously.

"And no blanket?"

"What? It's warm in here," she lied.

"Ha! From where I'm sitting, you don't look even a tiny bit warm. Although," he said, tilting his head, "you do look hot. Ironic, huh?"

Cameron simply smiled enigmatically and shifted her pillow beneath her head. She rolled over onto her side, closed her eyes. Her breathing became regular and House watched her as she fell asleep.

She felt herself squirm a millisecond before she felt the reason for it, but it took only that long for her to process the fact that she was shivering with cold. She pulled the sheet over her to warm herself a bit, but then noticed that House was making odd sounds. She ruled out the possibility that it was snoring or labored breathing, and when she looked over at him and saw him trembling beneath the comforter, it was confirmed that the sounds were stifled sobs into his pillow. She gasped and sprung out of her cot and onto the bed. In an instant, she was on her knees leaning over House, her hands on his back. He shook her off violently, but she rebounded fearlessly and once again placed her hands protectively on his textured shoulders. With that, he whipped himself around so that he was looking up at her and with one smooth, strong move, his hands flew to her wrists and ensnared them painfully. He looked at her for a moment with an oddly tearless grimace, when inexplicably his expression contorted into a menacing smile that frightened Cameron even more. "Gotcha!" he said, and before Cameron knew what was happening, he had twisted his body above hers and fell on top of her, trapping her beneath him, pressing his lips to hers and laughing into her mouth. It took her several moments to realize what was happening, that House had faked the crying to trick her into getting into bed with him.

"Hey!" she cried. The word was muffled beyond recognition underneath House's mouth, but the surprise and laughter behind the exclamation was apparent from the tone of her voice and the sudden rigidity of her muscles. House reluctantly pulled his lips off of hers breaking their kiss, but there was still laughter in his eyes and a wide smile on his face as he pushed himself up by his forearms and hovered above her.

"You…" she began, intending to chide him not only for resorting to such appalling measures to get his hands on her, but also for nearly scaring her to death. But then she noticed something. "Hey, wait a minute. Turn the light on."

House left his right hand where it was and reached over with his left to switch on the bedside lamp. They both winced at the sudden brightness, but Cameron studied his face intently. House was breathing hard over her, due to a combination of the kissing, laughter, and the physicality he exerted as he captured her beneath him. "What is it?"

She had never seen that expression on his face before. It was a common enough look, one that she'd had on her face before, and that she had seen on many faces before, but seeing it on the unkempt, weather-beaten countenance staring down on her was unprecedented. Where was the veil of cynicism, the weight of suspicion? He looked boyish and benign and almost… carefree.

"No it's just, you look very, very handsome. And you're an ass."

"But an ass who's gonna get some ass, which is the best kind of ass."

"Oh, what makes you so sure? How do you know I won't sentence you for breaking parole?"

He smirked. "Because I'll never learn," he said smugly.

Cameron scoffed and shot him an "in your dreams" sneer. She sighed resolutely. "Well," she said. "That's reason enough for me!" Now she caught him off-guard as she rolled him back over and straddled him, kissing him hard and squeezing his torso between her thighs. This started a game of dominance and submission, and they wrestled on the bed amid their own shrieks and laughter, and the occupants of rooms 313, 315, 214, and 114, were quite annoyed.


	43. Chapter 42

**CHAPTER 42**

"My car broke."

"Excuse me?" Cameron looked at House quizzically. They had been riding in relative silence for more than half an hour, and Cameron thought he'd fallen asleep. House continued to stare out the window, his chin resting in his hand. The scenery was so sparse that nothing outside seemed to change as they sped along; the only evidence of movement was the dashed lines on the road that blurred together into one, but the farmland that surrounded them in every direction had long ago been harvested, and the flat, bare, dead land stretched out, silent and stationary, for miles.

"My car. Broke." He turned to look at her, briefly, saw her puzzled expression, then returned his gaze to the sprawling landscape outside. "Last year," he continued. "The thing was a piece of crap. 22 years old, all dented up, with the engine light terminally on." He chuckled slightly. "Sometimes in the winter it just wouldn't start at all, and I'd have to take my bike to work in 10 degree weather." He smiled slightly at the memory. "Couple years ago, a car hit me from the side at an intersection, and the rear passenger door had to be replaced, and the color of the new one was off just enough to look really stupid. It really was the ugliest piece of shit. It started to fall apart a long time ago, and I put so much money into this car, it was obscene. It was only worth a couple hundred dollars, but I put thousands into repairs for it. I just liked it, I don't know. It didn't drive well, the a/c was broken, it looked like shit, and it was completely unreliable. But I was used to it, and I liked it, so I didn't care. I didn't want a new car, I just kept putting money into the Dynasty to fix it. But it finally died. The transmission went out, along with about 4 or 5 other pretty major things, and the mechanic literally refused to touch it."

Cameron was staring ahead at the road as he spoke, not sure where he was going with this story. After he stopped talking, she glanced at him to see if the story was over. He was staring motionlessly out the window once more, and she wasn't sure if he was finished or just pausing. She could see one quarter of his face from the angle his head was turned, and on it was a look of contemplation, of intense concentration, of trepidation, with a slight wince making the deep lines on his forehead even more pronounced with his cornflower blue eyes peering out from beneath his squinting eyelids. She wasn't sure if she was supposed to respond, until, a moment later, he continued.

"So, I had to look for a new car. Wilson took me to a couple dealerships, but I couldn't find anything I liked. Of course, he got all annoying like he always does, and ranted on about how I wasn't finding a new car because I didn't like change and other idiotic theories about my psyche. Anyway, I never did find one I liked, so I just never bought one. Just been riding the bike for the past year or so. But, uh," he turned to face Cameron, and plainly and confidently declared, "I think it's time to buy a new car."

A slow smile spread over Cameron's face, and she turned her face to his and caught his eye. "Thanks," she said softly.

His grimace relaxed into a beaming half-smile. "You caught the metaphor," he said approvingly.

"Well, what can I say? I learned from the best."


	44. Chapter 43

**CHAPTER 43**

"Come on, please?"

"Greg, I have to go to work!"

"So, tell them you're sick. They'll believe you."

"Yeah, and the reason they'd believe me is because I don't call in sick when I'm not sick," Cameron smirked.

"You've spent how long building this reputation as an honest, hardworking, responsible doctor? What good does it do you if you don't ever use it to your advantage?"

"Stop it," she chided. "I have to go, I'm gonna be late."

"Tell them you ran out of gas."

"I don't drive to work, I take the El."

"Tell them the El derailed."

"Right, that'll work. I'll see you when I get home. Be ready to go out."

She gave him a quick kiss and headed toward the door.

"Oh, wait, quick question," House said, and Cameron turned back and looked at him expectantly as he walked toward her. "When you're gone, would you mind if I—" He interrupted his own sentence by pushing her back against the door and slamming his mouth against hers. She moaned into his mouth at the sensation of his stubble gently scratching her face. She couldn't break the kiss, she couldn't muster enough self-control to end it. She opened her eyes as his mouth ground against hers, and seeing his face as he kissed her was even more of a turn on. His eyes were closed, and the expression on his face was a mixture of desire, need, determination, contentment, and concentration. House never approached anything halfway. Playing video games, watching television, writing on his white board, listening to music, working through a diagnosis, even just looking at people; he did it all with an intensity and focus that was unknown to most people. Cameron got butterflies in her stomach on the reflection that this extended into every kiss, every touch. It was why he was so good in bed, why he was so addictive, why he was so hard to defeat. She surrendered to him, and he felt it and devoured her with renewed confidence. Her eyelids fluttered as she fought to keep them open, and part of her wished he would stop the kiss, because she really had to go, but didn't have the will to pull away, but the rest of her wanted it last forever. It seemed like it would never stop, until he opened his eyes to look at her, and was surprised to see her eyes open, studying him. He had watched her face as he kissed her before, but she had her eyes closed every time, so he was startled to see her green eyes looking up at him. This barely perceivable stutter in concentration gave her just enough of a jolt that she was able to pull away from him.

"I hate you," she said playfully.

"You love me."

"Yeah, it's a fine line." She started to open the door, then turned back to look at him one more time. "Don't ever shave."

The door closed behind her, and House was left alone in her apartment, smiling as he went to take what became a nice, long shower.


	45. Chapter 44

**CHAPTER 44**

"_I'm on my way home. You ready to go?"_

"Yeah, my toenail polish should be about dry by the time you get here."

"_Were you okay alone today?"_

"Yeah, gave me time to catch up on my stories." Cameron chuckled. "Don't judge me. I saw your DVR. How many episodes of _Dancing With the Stars_ does one person need?"

"_Patrick Dempsey's on it."_

"Yeah. Whatever happened to his career?"

"_Be nice. I'll be back soon."_

Cameron came through the door a few minutes later and stopped in her tracks at the sight of him in a brand new outfit. Dark denim jeans, professionally wrinkled. A button down shirt worn open at the collar, in a rich, brilliant blue that made his eyes look like jewels under his lined brow.

"You went shopping."

"Yeah, it was that or do laundry. Where are we going?"

"You'll find out. Let's go."

They drove for about 45 minutes, and pulled into a massive outdoor parking lot and pulled up to valet park her car. Before the driver pulled away, she popped open the trunk and pulled out a large picnic basket and blanket, grabbed his hand and led him along.

She had brought him to Ravinia, which he was vaguely familiar with as an outdoor concert venue, but that was all he knew. Cameron picked up the tickets she had ordered earlier that day, and they followed the crowd to an expansive grassy hill densely populated with small clusters of couples, families, groups of friends, all talking and laughing and eating and drinking, sprawled out on blankets and settled into lawn chairs. He helped Cameron lay the blanket out on the ground and they both sat down with the program.

"So what are we seeing?"

"You'll see."

He eyed her exasperatedly. She opened the picnic basket and pulled out a bottle of wine, two plastic cups, and a small platter with cheese, grapes, and crackers. The sun was just beginning to set over the amphitheatre, which was a bare stage except for a concert grand piano, when people started to shift in their seats and applause rang throughout. Cameron pulled a small pair of binoculars out of her purse and handed them to House as a man entered from the wings. He looked through and saw Herbie Hancock walk onstage. He looked at her with an astonished smile, and she leaned over and gave him a kiss. As the music rang through the speakers set up in the lawn, House felt like he was riding his motorcycle. The broad brushstrokes of oranges, reds, pinks, and yellows across the sky darkened to purples and silvers, and eventually gave way to a velvety black star-scattered canvas. The temperature was that perfect mixture of cool and warm, where the breeze feels like a silk sheet draped and pulled loosely over your body. They lay down on the blanket, feeling the cool, uneven ground beneath them. Cameron was curled against him and he had his arm draped over her shoulder, playing on her arm. They stared at the sky and lost themselves in the smooth music and the atmosphere, until it had to end. They remained wordlessly as people filed past them, letting the crowd thin out before they made their way to the car, holding hands. House leaned over and kissed her neck, and said something very simple, but with very great significance. He said: "Thank you."


	46. Chapter 45

**CHAPTER 45**

_Sound._ There hadn't been any, now there was. No specific sounds, just sound. That's how he knew he was awake. The room was so dark that when he blinked his eyes, the view didn't change. He rocked slowly and subtly with the expansion and contraction of Cameron's back as she inhaled and exhaled deeply from beneath him. He was aware of their position as they lay next to one another on the bed, and marveled that, although they had been together for such a short time, they had already developed and refined their customary sleeping positions. They were both turned onto their left sides; he was positioned behind her so that he was partially on top of her, his right leg was nestled between both of hers. The even pressure of her legs on both sides of his dulled the sharp, cramping pain to a tolerable dull throb, and the warmth soothed and relaxed what little muscle remained in his disfigured thigh. His face was nuzzled in her neck so that when he blinked he could feel his eyelashes brushing her cheek, and his arms encircled her body in a gesture of protective dependence. Cradling her like this, in this position of utmost intimacy and vulnerability, did not make him feel captive or scared or stupid or common or weak or any of the other nightmarish traits he had so long associated with the business of letting someone in, or giving something out. It was quite the opposite, actually. He felt a sense of achievement, of vindication, of comfort and masculinity. Of needing and receiving, and giving and taking pride in giving. This need was unaccompanied by humility, what he took came without defeat, and what he gave back was not done out of pity or obligation. His eyelids became heavy once more.

Could it really be this easy? Was anything ever…

"Greg," Cameron whispered, rubbing his arms with hers. He mumbled against her ear in protest as he stirred awake. He tightened his hold on her and nestled deeper against her. "Greg," she whispered again, this time gently shaking his arms. "Time for me to get up." He reluctantly opened one eye, but stubbornly screwed the other one shut so tight that his entire face was twisted inward, as if the balance he achieved would still total up to his eyes still being closed. He began nibbling and sucking along her neck and shoulder, and stroked her waist and back with open hands. She rolled back into his touch, and he turned his attention to her back, stroking and kissing his way down and across the irresistible flat expanse of flesh, so smooth and soft and warm. She was now laying flat on her stomach with her head buried in a pillow, and he was directly on top of her. He slid his hands palm-side up underneath her stomach, and stroked and kneaded her abdomen and waist while his lips continued to explore new trails downward to the small of her back. His hands, too, were moving downward with a gentle, generous touch, and she clenched her thigh muscles around them when they reached low enough. The tenderness of the gesture was new to both of them, and when he finished, and her breathing had slowed to a steady pace, they both found themselves embarrassed.

"Well," said Cameron, breaking the silence. "I guess I owe you."

House chuckled. "This one's on me."

"Such a gentleman," she smiled, moving to get up. "Guess you don't want to join me in the shower then, huh?" He raised one eyebrow, then sprang out of bed canelessly, and hobbled awkwardly to beat her to the bathroom.


	47. Chapter 46

**CHAPTER 46**

"_Hold on, hold on, wait a minute. Did I hear you right???"_

"Dude, will you just give it to me?" House cast an entreating glance to the ceiling and dropped the phone from his ear with a frustrated grunt as the voice on the other end of the line broke into highly entertained chuckles at his expense. He whipped the phone back up to his ear and said, "Fine, you know what, forget I said anything."

"_Whoa, whoa, whoa, House. I'm sorry, you just caught me off guard. I'll e-mail it to you."_

"Thanks," House said softly, and flipped his phone closed. He stalked over to the laptop and logged into his e-mail account. A moment later, a message from _Wilson, James MD_ popped up onto the screen, the subject of the message entitled, "Recipe."

---------------------------

"_No, it's fine, it's just, half of these new interns are completely useless; it's driving me crazy!"_

"Wow, and when a person has exhausted Allison Cameron's patience, that's saying something. They must really be idiots," House said, pacing the floor of Cameron's kitchen and adjoining living room.

"_I don't even know how some of these people made it through med school. I swear, it seems to get worse and worse every year,"_ she said, panting lightly as she hastened down the street toward her apartment. _"Do the MCATS get progressively easier every year or what?"_

"Well, if they do, just think how hard mine would have been. No wonder I'm smarter than everyone around me. Turns out, it's just that I'm older and in my day we actually had to know a teeny little bit about medicine in order to become doctors."

"_Smarter than everyone? Thanks a lot,"_ Cameron said with a smile.

"Of course, by that logic, people older than me would know more about medicine than I do, and we know that this is not generally the case, so there goes that theory. Which leaves the question, how come there are so many morons running around pretending to be doctors?"

"_Done now?"_

"Yeah."

"_Well, good. That rant was perfectly timed; I'm downstairs now. Be up in a sec."_

House flipped his phone closed and took a last glance around the kitchen. Everything was sufficiently to his satisfaction, so he sat down at the kitchen table and prepared himself for the front door to open. He heard the scraping sound of the key entering the lock, and impulsively grabbed one of the roses out of a flower arrangement he had sitting in a vase atop the table and stuck it between his teeth. The door swung open and Cameron stopped in her tracks, a look of bewilderment on her face, as she saw the table set for dinner, complete with a new tablecloth, candles, and a beautiful bouquet of flowers in a vase. Although hardly a muscle on her face moved, her expression adjusted slightly and became one of touched amusement as the initial surprise wore off and she surveyed the scene before her.

"Wow," she said, gleaming. "Who is this romantic and what have you done with House?"

"Speak not of this 'House' person," he said, feigning a latin accent through the rose between his teeth. "Tonight we are alone in the world—ow, shit!" Cameron doubled over laughing as the flower fell from House's mouth and landed in his lap. His hand flew to the corner of his lower lip, where a small amount of blood came out of the puncture made when he accidentally bit down on the stem of the rose hard enough for the point of one of the thorns to break the skin there. "Great," he said, looking at the tiny smear of blood on his finger. "This is what I get for trying to be nice." He walked over to the sink and washed his hands off, and Cameron followed behind him.

"Thanks, you're amazing," she said, and kissed him. "Yuck," she said, laughing, as she tasted the slightest hint of blood on his mouth.

"That was real smart," he teased. "What say we break open the wine, huh?"

"Yeah, good idea," she said, sitting down at the table. "So what's for dinner?"

"Wilson's recipe for vegetable lasagna. Got a corkscrew?"

"Yeah, in there," Cameron said, pointing to a drawer near the refrigerator.

House obtained the object and brought it and the bottle of wine to the table, next to Cameron. His arm muscles flexed and bulged as he twisted the instrument into the cork and pried it out of the bottle with a pop. "I hope you like this because it was pretty expensive. Cost me my dignity. Now Wilson basically owns me, or at least my balls, which is really disappointing because I wanted to use them tonight."

"Uh… maybe I can borrow them for the evening? Okay, I can't play with this metaphor." They both started laughing, and the rest of the meal followed suit. The pure joy they experienced sharing each other's company was something they knew they would hold onto forever, no matter what happened down the road. This was a dangerous thought, and so they clung on to the present as tightly as they could. With every passing day, it became harder and harder to forget that this idyllic little life of theirs was still in its embryonic stages, and that it had been conceived in a fantasy world. Sooner or later, real life would have to descend once again, and when it did, they would be pulled apart. He couldn't stay there forever. Eventually, he would have to go back to Princeton and get back to work, though neither of them had the heart to address that inevitability. Rather than putting a cloud over the happiness they were enjoying by bringing the intrusion of reality into it, they both chose to enjoy the sunshine while it lasted, only scarcely aware of the quiet, but ever-nearing rumblings of change in the distance.


	48. Chapter 47

**CHAPTER 47**

"I think I found one," House said, setting his three-quarters-full coffee mug on the corner of one of the dozens of pages of the Chicago Tribune scattered on Cameron's coffee table and living room floor.

"_Wait, how did you get there?" _asked a confused Cameron over the phone. She thought that she and House were going to go looking for cars that evening after work. She wasn't upset that he went without her, but she was a bit taken aback, seeing as how it was his idea, not hers, that she should go with him to pick one out.

"How did I get where?"

"_The dealership."_

"I'm not getting a car from a dealership! How am I supposed to know the car's history if I get it at a dealership?"

"_I don't know, I figured if we went to a reputable dealership we wouldn't have to worry about getting a fake history."_

"I'm not worried about getting a fake history, I'm worried about getting _no_ history."

"_Huh?"_ asked a very confused Cameron.

"My last car was owned by a guy who left the priesthood to become a roadie for a death metal band called _Vomit_. I mean, come on, that's great stuff. You can't get that kind of information from a dealership."

Cameron smiled with amusement as a new light was shed on his attachment to his old car. _"That's a tough story to beat,"_ Cameron smirked. _"No wonder you had such a hard time giving that car up."_

"Okay, fine you got me. I liked that my car had an interesting story, is that so bad?"

"_No, it's true. It's shameful how dealerships take the humanity out of car-buying. I, for one, am so sick of cars being sold on quality alone. I mean, in the grand scheme of things, what matters more: the year it was manufactured, or the political views of the previous owner? I think we both know the answer to that."_

"Ha, ha," House said dryly. "You laugh, but I didn't see the remains of a scraped off 'Santorum in 2012' bumper sticker on your rear fender."

"_The campaign buttons are in the glove compartment."_

"We can't be friends anymore."

"_Oh, hey, I gotta go, I'm being paged. I'll be home in a couple hours and we'll go. Should I be scared?"_

"With any luck!" House flipped his phone closed and tossed it on the couch. He sat staring at it, a smile frozen on his lips.


	49. Chapter 48

**CHAPTER 48**

_*Ring, ring*_

"Yeah?"

"_I'm here."_

"Be right there." House grabbed the directions he printed off the internet, and prepared himself for his trek down the stairs, which was, at least, marginally better than the trek going up. He popped a vicodin, as much for moral support as for the anticipation of physical pain, and made his way down. By the time he reached the ground floor, small beads of perspiration had gathered on his forehead, and he sighed with relief when he was on flat ground. Cameron's car was waiting outside, and he got into the passenger seat, made sure it was pushed all the way back, and stretched his leg out as much as he could.

"You okay?" Cameron asked.

"Fine."

"Good." She smiled and leaned over to give him a peck on the mouth, but as she started to move away, his lips followed hers and pulled her back to him for an extended moment.

"Missed you too," she said with a smile. "Okay, let's see these directions." He handed them over to her. "House, this is in Wisconsin!"

"_Southern _Wisconsin," he protested.

She grumbled playfully and put the car into gear.

The scenery gradually merged from urban to suburban to sparsely populated rolling hills and increasingly densely packed trees. Almost an hour and a half later, they pulled onto a heavily wooded street, with houses spaced far apart and tucked deep within the groves, 50, 60, 70 yards from the narrow road.

"I hope he's a serial killer!" House said excitedly.

"House!"

He shrugged and fidgeted, tapping his fingers on the dashboard, tugging at his seat belt, puffing out his cheeks, with the same glint in his eyes that a child has when he catches the first glimpse of his birthday cake coming toward him amid choruses of "Happy birthday to you". Cameron's mouth widened into an affectionate smile.

"Oh, shut up," House said caustically, a sheepish half-smile on his face.

"I didn't say anything," Cameron replied, shaking her head patronizingly from side to side.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah."

Cameron matched the house number on the mailbox with the house number on the directions, and pulled slowly down a long, twisting driveway. The house came into view, a brown ranch perched atop a small hill, with huge windows and a large, glass garage off to the side of it. The car eased to a halt and House unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the car. He stretched out his leg and walked with a slightly more pronounced limp than usual. They rang the doorbell and House waited anxiously to see the person on the other side of the door. After a moment, the door opened, revealing a disappointingly average looking man.

"Hi, you must be Greg, nice to meet you," he said warmly, extending his hand toward House, who shook it rather warily. While House guessed him to be in his early 40s, he had a boyish face and youthful eyes. "Hi, I'm Adam Patrick," he said, turning his attention to Cameron.

"Allison Cameron, nice to meet you."

"Come on in." He stepped back to let the couple into the house, which was as average as it could be. House already felt anxious to leave, as this was not the place to find something with an interesting history. "Can I get you guys any water or anything?" They shook their heads. "So, you guys live in Chicago, huh?"

"I do, he's just visiting."

"Oh, yeah, from where?"

"New Jersey."

"Oh okay. Wow, that'll be a long drive back, huh?" Cameron laughed politely, and House twisted his face into a smile just barely big enough so that this guy wouldn't be completely insulted at his blatant disinterest in the conversation. Adam took the hint. "So, let's go take a look at the car. It's in the garage, follow me."

"Do you mind if I use your restroom first?" asked Cameron.

"No problem, it's the first door on the left through that hall," said Adam and then motioned for House to follow him to the garage.

There were four cars in the garage, so that it looked like a showroom. The one that was for sale, a 2004 Porsche Boxster, really was beautiful. The well-maintained and newly waxed cobalt blue exterior screamed out for attention, the leather interior reeked of comfort and sophistication, and the streamlined body was smooth as marble. Unfortunately, House resolved to continue his search until he found one that had something special. Nevertheless, he did examine the car closely inside and out, and loved what he saw. _Well, I'm on the right track,_ he thought. Now he just had to wait for Cameron to come out and they could leave.

Cameron came into the garage with an enigmatic glint in her eye. "Wow," she said, eyebrows raised. "That's gorgeous!"

"Thanks," said Adam, relieved that she was back in the room, as she was the only one who would make conversation with him. "It was actually a gift from my sister for when I got my master's degree."

Cameron smiled widely and said, "Wow, that's really generous!"

"Yeah, she's a sweetheart." His cell phone rang and he looked at the caller id. "Wow, speaking of, this is her. Do you mind if I take this?"

"No, not at all," Cameron replied warmly.

"Thanks, make yourself at home." He turned his attention to the phone call. "Tara, hey, I was just talking about you!" He left the garage and closed the door behind him.

"Beautiful car," Cameron said.

"Eh."

"Eh, what? It's stunning!"

"Yeah, the car's all right, but the guy is completely dullsville. His sister bought it for him? What kind of guy lets his sister buy him a Porsche?"

"I don't know, maybe she's rich."

"Whoa, how'd ya figure that?" he asked sarcastically. "I'm gonna keep looking."

"I don't know," Cameron said knowingly. "I really think you should reconsider this one."

"What do you know?" he asked suspiciously.

"Oh, nothing. If we're gonna go, maybe you should run to the bathroom first. We've got a long drive ahead of us and all."

House raised one eyebrow at her and she smirked back. He went inside and walked toward the bathroom, not because he had to go, but because he was curious to know what she found out. He reached the bathroom and went inside. Everything was normal. What could she possibly have found interesting? He went through the medicine cabinet. Tylenol, Advil, Neosporin, Band-Aids, rubbing alcohol, cough syrup, Zoloft. Zoloft. Zoloft? Cameron couldn't possibly think that the fact that this guy was on anti-depressants would interest him in the least, could she? Half the country's on anti-depressant meds, how would that make him unique? She might as well have pointed out that he's part-Irish for all he cared. He walked out of the bathroom ready to tease Cameron about it, when he noticed the pictures hanging on the wall in front of him. All of them seemed to be family pictures except one. _Is that…?_ He peered closer at the picture. Yeah, it was definitely Carmen Electra standing next to him. Who has a picture of Carmen Electra hanging up with all their family pictures? Except maybe her family. His eyes widened and his heart jumped into his throat with excitement. He looked at one big group picture with what seemed to be about four generations of people, and… yup, there she was again. He was related to Carmen Electra??? He quickly limped back to the garage door, and on his way there, he saw a bookshelf that had more pictures on it. One of them was signed: "To my favorite big bro, Love 'Carmen'!" _Big bro??? __**She**__ gave him the car??? Oh, it is sooo mine!!!_ He very nearly leapt to the door of the garage to find Cameron waiting expectantly, a huge grin on her face.

Not wanting to get prematurely excited, House said, suspiciously, "But wait a minute. On the phone, he called her Tara. And his last name is Patrick."

Cameron scoffed. "What do you think the odds are that she was born with the name Carmen Electra?"

He considered this. "Okay…." he said. "This just got interesting."


	50. Chapter 49

**CHAPTER 49**

_*Ring, ring*_

"How can I help you?" answered House.

"Hot car," said Cameron.

"Chick magnet huh?"

"Definitely!"

"Yeah, well, that's why I bought it."

"Uh-oh! Watch it!" Cameron teased.

"What?" House said innocently. "You're a chick. Maybe I just didn't want your attentions to wane."

"Yeah, nice try," Cameron said through a vibrant smile. She hung up the phone and continued on driving behind House in his new car. He had the top down and music blaring and looked like a healthy mix of a mid-life crisis incarnate and a 16-year-old on his birthday as he receives the keys to his first car.

_*Ring, ring*_

"Dale Earnhardt, Junior speaking."

"Slow down! Not all cars go 150 miles per hour!"

"160 in my case."

"Whatever, slow down before my tires fall off!"

"Well, if they do, you'll still have a sweet ride home."

Cameron laughed as she hung up the phone and threw it onto the passenger seat. She wished they could be riding in the same car.

_*Ring, ring*_

He checked the caller id and sighed. "House," he answered, irritated.

"_House, I'm sorry. I wouldn't have called unless we were absolutely desperate."_ It was Cuddy's voice on the line.

"I guess I've got a few minutes."

"_No, you don't understand. I need you here."_

"Symptoms!" he prompted her.

"_Presented with sudden high fever, muscle aches, nausea, blurred vision, rash all over his upper body."_

"What does the rash look like?"

"_House, we need you here!"_

"What does the rash look like?" he persisted.

Cuddy sighed. _"It's red. Basically like sunburn."_

"Has he travelled recently?"

"_Works with the Peace Corps, just got back from a trip to Seoul, South Korea."_

"Working outside, long hours…. Heat stroke? Exhaustion?"

"_Get real, House. He got back 3 weeks ago, there's no way. Plus, it doesn't explain his more recent symptoms—tachycardia and now kidney failure."_

"Food poisoning, Lyme Disease." House frantically racked his brain, throwing out any idea that came to him, groping and clutching in vain for the answer with intensifying desperation as Cuddy eliminated his theories one by one.

"_House, we've been through all of this. I'm telling you. I am calling you as a last resort. We need you here. He's going downhill fast. He can't afford for us to waste anymore time."_

Drained of all ideas, deflated, and defeated, House was finally forced to face the real world once more. Despite all the crap that he had just endured, throughout it all, even as his mother lay dying, Cameron's presence acted as a layer of insulation that protected his raw nerves, softening the sting of the elements and tempering the bitter cold of loneliness, pain, and regret. And now the inevitable day had come, the day which brought the victory of his sense of obligation and devotion to the medical world over his desire and responsibility to himself and the people around him. He sighed heavily. "I'm on my way. Expect me early tomorrow morning."

"_Thanks. I'm so sorry. Tell Cameron I'm so sorry."_


	51. Chapter 50

**CHAPTER 50**

Cameron's brow furrowed in confusion as House's left turn signal began to blink on and off, when they were already driving in the left lane and there was no exit in sight. She hoped he hadn't run out of gas or run into a problem with the car. He eased onto the shoulder of the road and put his hazard lights on, and she followed accordingly, turned her car off, and began to walk toward House, still sitting inside his car, waiting for the convertible top to close as intermittent raindrops began to tap the ground gently.

He sat with both his hands on the wheel staring vaguely into the dashboard with a face of stone, not wanting to move, as if the act of getting out of the car would make his impending departure a reality. He sensed Cameron standing outside his window and, with his gaze fixed and his head frozen, his fingers fumbled clumsily to find the correct button that would roll down his window, amid the unfamiliar instruments of his new car.

"You okay?" Cameron asked apprehensively, bending down to the window. House's vacant look and shallow sigh told her that he was going to say something he didn't want to talk about. He stroked his beard with his hand nervously before turning his countenance up to meet hers, his expressive eyes conveying a reluctant warning to her that she should prepare to learn something unpleasant.

She opened the door worriedly and knelt down so that her hands were on his thigh and she looked up at him from below. "What is it?" Not wanting to keep her in suspense, but not wanting to say what he had to tell her, he took her hands in one of his and stepped out of the car, coaxing her up so they were both standing, face-to-face. As he spoke, he avoided her probing eyes, instead favoring the view of the cars whipping by on the highway.

"Cuddy called me. I… have to go back to work." As was his way, it was only after he spoke that his eyes locked with hers, searching expectantly for her reaction. Her eyes became bloodshot and her breathing became shallow. It was evident that she was holding back tears.

"Well," she said softly. "We both knew you couldn't stay here forever."

He breathed out a silent, resigned snicker. "Yeah."

"When are you going?" she asked, knowing the answer.

"Right away."

"You need your stuff, right? Everything's still in my apartment," she pointed out.

"No time," he murmured. She nodded sympathetically.

She approached him slowly, and buried her face in his chest, wrapping her arms around his waist. He folded his arms around her and nuzzled against her forehead with his chin. "You know it's not that I…" he mumbled quietly.

"I know," she murmured, the sound muffled against his shirt.

His embrace strengthened, and as her body began to tremble with her soft sobs, he simply shook his head and sighed mournfully. The raindrops became heavier and more frequent, and within minutes they were soaked and shivering amid the downpour.

"Wow," Cameron said, indicating the rain with a weak smile. "Does the weather often serve as your metaphor?"

House chuckled. "Apparently, I'm just that good." He gently pressed her up against the car and brought his mouth down to hers in a passionate kiss that tasted of rain and tears. He clutched and tangled her wet hair and she grasped the back of his neck with both hands. They felt the car rock whenever another one whipped by them on the highway, some drivers honking their horns as they passed; but they remained connected to one another, unwilling to let go, resentful of the fact that they had finally come back together after such a long, difficult separation, only to be torn apart again so soon.

They reluctantly broke their kiss, and she began stroking up and down his chest with her hands, and he echoed her touch by running his hands up and down her arms.

"Take care of yourself," Cameron said earnestly.

"I will," he assured her. His face expressed 1000 inexpressible thoughts, which left him speechless.

"We'll work it out," said Cameron.

House nodded feebly, and he walked her the short distance to her car, leaning on her slightly for support, as his cane was still sitting in the Porsche. He kissed her once more before letting her sit, and he closed the door after her. She rolled down her window.

"Cuddy says she's sorry," said House, who then limped awkwardly back to his car.

She pulled out onto the expressway and then he did the same. He followed behind her for another 20 miles to the rhythm of the rain and the squeaking of the windshield wipers, until her exit came and she veered off the highway and disappeared from sight. He set his sights on the road ahead of him, accelerated sharply, and raced toward Princeton.


	52. Chapter 51

**CHAPTER 51**

Cameron opened the door to her darkened apartment that evening, greeted by the familiar shadows of the elements of her home—the couch, the television, the coffee table, the bookshelf. The streetlights fought the same contest with her blinds tonight as every night, and had the last word by casting thin, yet persistent rows of light across her living room floor. The clock ticked loudly in the kitchen, and the almost indiscernible green haze of the lighted numbers on her alarm clock drifted out from her bedroom like incense. She had lived there for three years. Never had a roommate, never had a serious boyfriend. Every night after work, she came home to an empty apartment and spent the evening alone. But tonight, she reflected somberly, was the first night she had ever found herself feeling lonely.

She waded through the darkness to get to her bedroom, whereupon she turned the light on and looked around. House's suitcase lay open in the corner by her bathroom door, and the contents spilled over the sides and onto the floor. Her bed was unmade and the striped cotton pants that House sometimes slept in were thrown together with the sheets in a wrinkled heap. She walked through the room and gathered all of his clothes together, except for one t-shirt, and put them in her washing machine. She went into her bathroom to brush her teeth, and her stomach churned at the sight of his toothbrush leaning atilt toward hers in the holder. She brushed her teeth, washed her face, transferred the wet clothes to the dryer, and settled down on her bed to study some of the files she'd brought home from work. When the laundry was dry, she brought it back into her room and sorted it—the button down shirts and the suit he'd bought for the funeral found a place hanging in her closet. The t-shirts, jeans, socks, and boxers were meticulously folded and placed alongside her clothes in a dresser drawer. Everything was put away except for the one shirt she didn't wash, which she put on to wear to bed. It was House's white "Rolling Stones" t-shirt that he wore on the day he appeared unannounced at her door. She tried as hard as she could to imagine that she lay curled up not in his shirt, but in his arms. With modest success, she eventually drifted into a light sleep.


	53. Chapter 52

A/N: Disclaimer—I know nothing about medicine besides what I've learned from House, so this is based on my pathetic research and is probably far from accurate. Also, thanks so much for all of your comments. I love them all—the positive ones are what inspire me to continue, and the constructive criticism is what will help me improve.

**CHAPTER 52**

He had intended to drive straight through. For a while, his racing thoughts did work in tandem with the Vicodin to dull his pain enough that his leg being cramped in the small car for hours was at least tolerable. Although the temperature dropped down to the 40's, he drove with the convertible top down, as the sting of the wind on his face distracted him from his aching thigh. However, there did eventually come a time when the pain grew so loud that he couldn't stand it anymore. It burned and cramped and pulled his whole body inside of itself, to the point where he had no choice but to stretch his legs. He pulled into a rest stop in "Some-Town-or-Other," Pennsylvania and got out of the car. He could barely stand upright, and his cane was supporting his entire body weight, but he did slowly feel himself untangle as he walked. If he hadn't been called away, he would be stretched out in bed with Cameron, his leg pressed between hers, and as close to painless as it would probably ever be again. He almost thought that that feeling of comfort must have been somewhere between a dream and a hallucination, considering the agony he felt at that moment. He found a bench and sat down, stretching his leg in front of him and kneading the muscle in his thigh as hard as he could. Although he knew that this ministration did little to help, he hated the feeling of being helpless and so adopted the habit of massaging his thigh, if only to delude himself into believing that he was actually able to have some control over his pain. Did it work? Of course it didn't—he could never fool himself. That's the unfortunate thing about being brilliant—you have nowhere to hide, no shelter from knowledge. But there was one thing that he could control to manage his pain, and that was his pills. He swallowed the fourth pill he had taken in the 8 hours he had been driving. He was definitely starting to feel the effects of the medication beyond its intended purpose, but he felt so helpless and so frustrated that he had to take some measure to cope with his pain, and this was all he knew. He got back into his car, his face stinging from the wind, his heart burdened, his mind floating about 3 feet above reality, and the pain in his thigh layering on top of itself, as nacre forms a pearl. As the pain increased, so did his speed, and as his speed increased, so did his thoughts, and as his thoughts increased, so did his high.

_*Ring, ring*_

The black night sky gave way to grey, with a slight dusting of lavender at the horizon. It was a little after 4 and dawn was just barely beginning to break and House was in Princeton, less than 2 miles away from the hospital. The ringing of his phone sounded muffled, like it was beneath a blanket or a cushion, but he looked down to find it resting on top of the center console. He felt himself pick it up and bring it to his ear, and seemed to hear himself answer with a gruff, "House." He was coming down from his high, but he still felt separated from reality. Now that he was off of the deserted highway, he had to focus harder on the road, being sure to stop at red lights, move when they turned green, and be aware of cars around him. This took a good deal of concentration in his current state, particularly because, due to a combination of the drug, sleep deprivation, and a sense of heightened alertness to compensate for his slower reaction time, he kept seeing things move in the corner of his eye, and was constantly sure he was about to hit things that turned out to be nothing but his own paranoia.

"_House, it's Collins."_

"How's the patient?"

"_He's hemorrhaging, he just went into shock, and now he's hallucinating."_

"That makes two of us."

"_He's not gonna last another hour at this rate. Where are you?"_

"Pulling into the parking—shit!" He slammed on the brake pedal at the sight of an animal crossing the parking lot in front of him, but was too late and felt the car jerk violently as he ran over the rodent.

"_What is it?"_ Collins asked, alarmed.

House groaned and looked in the rear view mirror to catch a glimpse of what he had hit, which turned out to be a huge rat. "Ugh, nothing. Just ran over…" He stopped midsentence, and his mind cleared like the sky when the heavy clouds crack and part after a downpour. "A rat. Start the patient on Ribavirin."

"_Hep-C? That would affect his liver before his kidneys, besides…"_

"Because he doesn't have hep-C!" House interrupted, irritably, as he jerked his way into his parking spot. "This guy," he started, slamming the car door behind him as he exited the vehicle, "when he was in South Korea, where was he staying?"

"_Some seedy hotel in Seoul."_

House's limp was even more exaggerated than usual as he pushed himself through the hospital lobby with his cane as quickly as his leg would allow. "Did he see any rats or rat droppings in his room?"

"_Yeah, not in his room, but he did see them outside of the hotel and one in the lobby. We tested for anything we could think of that's spread by rodents."_

"Well, you clearly didn't think of enough!" House was nearing the ICU.

"_What are you thinking?"_

"Here's a big clue: he's had **h**emorrhaging, **f**ever, and **r**enal **s**ymptoms," he said, exaggerating the first sound in each word.

"_HFRS. Hantavirus."_

"They've treated it with Ribavirin in a couple studies. It's still in the experimental stages." He strode down the halls of the ICU, searching for the room that his team would be in. He stopped in his tracks when he saw Collins and Wilson standing outside of a room, looking in, while his other two fellows were treating the patient behind the glass. Collins and Wilson turned and saw House approaching them. House stopped in his tracks, and shut his cell phone. "Start the treatment, then start praying." Collins shut his phone, nodded at House, then started down the hall.

Wilson greeted him wordlessly with nothing more than a somber gaze, and only House could decipher the message that lied therein, and he replied silently.

_Welcome back to real life. Sorry it had to end. Congratulations on solving the case._

_Yeah._


	54. Chapter 53

**CHAPTER 53**

"So, what are you doing here, anyway?" House asked Wilson as they trudged heavily toward their offices.

"Well, since you've been gone, I've been sort of helping your team out a little."

"Wow. So in addition to your job, you've been doing mine too—and, from the fact that you're still here at 4 in the morning, it looks like you've been doing it better than I would have."

Wilson chuckled softly. They reached his office and he held the door open for House to walk through. House sat down in Wilson's chair, and lifted his legs up to rest on his desk, and Wilson pulled the chair sitting in the corner of the room to the other side of it and sat down himself. Stretching his leg out on top of Wilson's desk was deliciously painful; a good, satisfying pain that suggested that relief was imminent. He twirled his cane around mindlessly and leaned back in the chair.

"So," Wilson began. "How are you feeling?"

House responded by dropping his head back and uttering a drawn out groan—an impressive and comprehensive sound that expressed exhaustion, frustration, loneliness, resignation, helplessness, and a dash of self-mockery for flavor. He followed it up with a hefty sigh, and a shake of his head that seemed to say, "I'm stumped."

"Wow, that good, huh?"

"You know how you feel about Sudoku?" House began.

"I hate it."

"Exactly. You hate it because you suck at it."

"Gee, thanks."

"Don't mention it. Now imagine that everyone around you was doing Sudoku all the time, and they won't shut up until you try it."

"Shouldn't be too difficult, considering it actually happened."

"So, you start the puzzle, and you're doing pretty good, and everything's adding up, and you're starting to get into it, starting to think you might actually be sort of good at it. Maybe even enjoying it. And you're going at a good pace and it seems like you may have done it right, and you just need a few more minutes to finish it, but then your old dog comes up to you and chews up the paper it's written on so the whole thing's gone. You were so close to having it finished, but now you'll never know if it would have been right, or if you would have had to start over again because one of the boxes had 2 sixes. Add a dead mom, some great sex, and an infarction to the equation, multiply by about 4 million, and that's pretty much how I'm feeling."


	55. Chapter 54

**CHAPTER 54**

House jerked into consciousness. His not yet open eyelids squeezed together tightly and his face contorted as the pain shocked his body. This was the first time he had awoken alone for 17 days, and in that short time, he had already grown accustomed to the serene feeling of waking up gradually—sense by sense, sound by sound, sensation by sensation, slowly, slowly, until you ease into the waking world. It made him feel safe, it made him feel normal, it made him feel like he had reclaimed a part of him that had been taken away more than a decade ago when he lost the use of his leg. But now he felt that he had never gained anything, only borrowed it. It was hundreds of miles away sitting on a train in Chicago, mourning just like him.

He walked into Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital with a severely pronounced limp. Wilson saw him from across the lobby and frowned at the sight of his friend, barely able to walk. He met up with him and they stayed silent until they reached the elevator, at which point Wilson said, "How bad is your leg?"

House sighed. "Bad." They were silent for another moment, and House said, "What, no lecture on the deeper psychological reason for my pain?"

"This time there's no need."

Cameron was staring out the window from her seat on the elevated train on her way to work, heavy-hearted. Her face lit up, though, when her phone beeped and she saw a text message from "House." It read:

"_YOU LOOK HOT"_

She giggled out loud, but quickly restrained her laugh in the hopes that the other people on the train wouldn't notice. Too late. Before she responded to him, she changed his name in her phone to "Greg."

"_YOU CAN'T EVEN SEE ME"_ was her response.

She waited a moment looking expectantly at her phone. Finally, it beeped again.

"_YOU ALWAYS LOOK HOT"_

She smiled widely.

"_WELL THEN YOU LOOK HOT TOO"_ she typed, and waited.

_*Beep* "YOU CAN'T EVEN SEE ME"_

The more she became accustomed to his mind games, the more pleasure she took in playing along, and so she texted, _"MY LOSS."_

_*Beep* "DON'T YOU DARE TELL ANYONE ABOUT THIS"_

She was confused by his last message, and was in the middle of typing a response, when her cell phone beeped again. Her chest filled with laughter when she opened his message to find a picture he had just taken of himself with his phone. Seeing the window behind his desk in the background of the picture brought back bittersweet memories of the days she spent at PPTH. She quickly typed, _"SEE I KNEW IT ;)"_

_*Beep* "WHERE'S MY PICTURE"_

"_I CAN'T I'M IN PUBLIC"_

_*Beep* "EVEN HOTTER WHAT ARE YOU WEARING"_

Once again, she couldn't hold in her laughter, which drew quite a few odd looks from the other passengers. _"OKAY FINE HERE GOES"._ She discreetly put her phone in her lap and pressed the button to take a picture. She looked at it and saw that it had captured her pants and shoes from mid-calf down, and a good deal of the floor of the train. She smugly sent that back to him, then waited.

_*Beep* "TEASE"_

"_PERVERT"_

Eight hundred miles apart, both of them smiled in unison, put their phones away, and felt a much needed burst of energy to get through the day.


	56. Chapter 55

**CHAPTER 55**

It had been six years since Cameron had walked out of House's office for the last time. It had not been easy for either of them, but it was especially hard on House. While Cameron departed in hope, she left House behind in a state of stagnation, mired in the present while Cameron set her sights on the future. The loss burned both of them, but Cameron was able to nurse her wounds from afar, while House had to return day after day to the still-smoldering site of the fire, to be scorched anew from the embers that still drifted, hot as ever, all around him. He was forced to retrace steps that he had taken with her in his stride alone. Still, though, they somehow needed to adapt to life apart, and so they did, and could do it again. It wasn't easy, but they settled into their new situation and became accustomed to texting throughout the day, and speaking on the phone at night. They actually found this to be a fairly domestic scenario. One time, House even broke character and joked that their relationship was like an idyllic marriage—idyllic because they still enjoyed talking to each other, and marriage-like because it didn't involve sex. They both yearned to feel the other's touch, but the necessities of maintaining their busy lives were such that there was not much time to mourn except at night as they lay in their beds.

***************

"_You really don't have a case?"_

"Nope. The downside, of course, being that I had to spend my day in the clinic. I think I've seen enough genitalia to last me the rest of my life."

"_Well, then I guess you'll have to wear a blindfold next time we're together,"_ Cameron murmured suggestively.

"For you, I'll make an exception." House was panting heavily as he limped from his parking spot to his apartment a few blocks away, his breath visible on the air in front of him. The weather had turned cold, and he was shivering beneath his hat and scarf. "The sooner, the better," he muttered under his breath.

"_I'm sorry. I'm going crazy too. It's just that I feel like there's never a good time to get away. The second one thing ends, another begins. Otherwise, you know I'd be there."_ This was a bit of a touchy subject. They hadn't seen one another for three months, and even though House wouldn't ever say it, it was clear that her not coming worried him a little bit. Not to mention the fact that he hadn't gone this long without sex since he could remember, and it was getting to him.

"Yeah," he replied despondently, at the thought of spending yet another night alone in front of the tv.

"_I didn't mean to depress you."_

"I'm not depressed."

"_Good. You almost home?"_

"Yeah, just about."

"_Well, I'll be off in about an hour. I'll call you back. Love you."_

"Love you." House fished his keys out of his pocket as he neared his front door. It was freezing and he couldn't wait to get inside. If he couldn't have Cameron there to warm him, he'd have to make do with a Vicodin, a scotch, and a fire.

The door clicked shut, he threw his backpack down, and headed straight for the kitchen to pour himself a glass of scotch. He brought it and the bottle with him to his piano, turned on the dim light that sat on top of it, sat down, and started to play. Within seconds, he was swept up into the music and the room around him grew fainter and less real. Exactly what he needed.

"Pretty," came a voice from behind him, followed by two arms snaking across his shoulders and down his chest. _Cameron._ House was shocked, but not fazed, and he closed his eyes and inhaled her scent, and leaned back into her and clutched her arms with his left hand, while his right still riffed on the keys.

"For the last time, Wilson, I will _not_ go to bed with you!" House joked, then turned his head back to see her face for the first time in three months. "Oh, Allison! I thought you were… stupid mistake, I can see that now."

"Shut up," she said through her smile, but seized the opportunity that arose by him turning his head up to her to bring her mouth to his, and House sounded a bluesy chord on the piano. Their lips met and clasped together magnetically, and while his right hand orchestrated, his left reached up and encircled her neck from below. He clasped her neck in his large hand and pressed her mouth to his as he tilted his head back farther to allow her deeper into his mouth. His right hand danced one last arpeggio before he lost his self-control and needed all of her. He swung around on the piano bench so that he was facing her for the first time, and he parted his knees so that she could nestle between them, and he firmly enveloped her midsection in his strong arms, bringing her as close to him as possible, kissing her chest and stomach through her shirt while she pressed his head tightly to her and kissed his hair.

"Oh god," he panted. "Thank god you're here." Making up for lost time, he slid his hands underneath her shirt and as he lifted it off over her head. Articles of clothing went flying around the room, landing on the couch, the floor, the table, the piano. They couldn't have possibly cared less, as all of their efforts were put into trying to satiate their appetite for one another. Even the tiniest moment apart felt like a moment squandered; any break in the kiss felt wasteful and careless. House remained seated on the piano bench, and Cameron gingerly straddled him and wrapped her legs tightly around his waist. There they remained, wrapped up in one another's embrace, until their moans accelerated to screams and slowed again, ending at last in shallow breaths. They looked one another in the eyes, smiling mischievously, and wordlessly decided that they would sacrifice the closeness they felt, intertwined as they were on House's piano bench, by separating long enough to move into the bedroom in favor of comfort and warmth and an atmosphere that could sustain them the entire night. Yes, the more they thought about it, the more they felt it was a sensible investment.

Cameron, with a wide smile and twinkling eyes, was able to prance lithely down the hall to the bedroom. House, who suffered a wrenching lightning bolt of pain when he stood up from the piano bench, nonetheless maintained his good humor as he hurled himself awkwardly down the hallway behind her as fast as his legs would allow.

When he rounded the corner into his bedroom, Cameron was lying on his bed expectantly. "Took you long enough," she teased.

"Yeah, well I had a little difficulty making it here without the cane," House began. "_Plus_, you know, my leg hurt." Cameron rolled her eyes playfully, but the second House rolled onto the bed with her, she got right back down to the task at hand, which suited House just fine!


	57. Chapter 56

**CHAPTER 56**

"_Greg,"_ a voice whispered. _"Time to get up."_ He felt her kiss his forearm, and then felt her shake him lightly. The sensation of their bare bodies rocking gently against one another as she shook him was _not_ giving him any incentive to get _out_ of bed. He growled quietly into her ear and stubbornly held her tighter. "Greg," she said aloud. "You have to be at work in half an hour."

He scoffed. "Yeah, right. Go back to sleep."

"But—"

"Allison," House said. "Do you really think you are going to win this argument?"

"I—" she began, but was cut off as House's teeth latched to her earlobe in playful mock warning, and when he began flicking it with his tongue, her resolve melted away and suddenly, losing this argument didn't seem like such a bad thing.

---------------------------

_*Ring, ring*_

"That's it, I'm getting it!" said Cameron, but House wrapped her up tightly in his arms so that she couldn't move at all. "House, seriously! This is the fifth time they've called. They're obviously worried about you."

"Oh, they probably just assume that I'm passed out in a pool of my own vomit or something, it's fine."

"Yeah, exactly. And, by the way, can I just point out how very attractive that mental picture is? Now let me get the phone." With that she pinched his arm hard enough that he flinched, and she jumped out of bed and grabbed his phone off of his coffee table. She already had it at her ear when she was walking back. She smiled at the sight of him lying on the bed, already dozing again.

"_House, where the hell are you? Are you okay?"_ asked Cuddy before Cameron had a chance to speak.

"Cuddy?"

"_Who's this?" _she asked sternly.

"It's Cameron!"

Cuddy laughed with relief. _"Oh my god, I thought you were a hooker or something. I was gonna kill House on your behalf! Speaking of which, I assume you're the reason he's blowing off work?"_

"Guilty." She got back into bed and pulled the blanket and House's arms around her.

"_How come you didn't tell me or Wilson you were coming in?"_

"Well, the original idea was to surprise all of you, but of course House had to go and act like a five-year-old, so I had to spoil it."

"_House acting like a five-year-old, there's a shock. Tell him if he doesn't isn't here by eleven, he's doing twice his clinic hours for a week."_

"I heard that!" he mumbled indignantly.

"He says he heard that," Cameron relayed.

"_Good. Tell him to get his ass in here. And you be sure to come in too, okay?"_

"Count on it. See you soon."

"_Can't wait."_

"Okay, Greg," Cameron said after she hung up the phone. "You heard the lady. Gotta get up."

"No," he said. "What she said was that I have to be there by eleven. It is only 9:45. It only takes ten minutes to get to the hospital from here. So that means we don't have to leave for an hour and five minutes." He kissed her on the shoulder blade and held her tight.

"Mmmm…" she murmured. She felt his rough face on her bare back as she looked around the room. "It's so weird to be back here." The last time she was in this room, the idea of being in House's bed, their fingers and limbs interwoven, his arms possessively clinging to her, was a mere fantasy.

"Is it?"

"Mmm-hmm. From this angle anyway. Never thought I'd actually make it as far as I am now."

"I never thought I'd let you."

"I used to fantasize about being in here."

"Oh, yeah? What happened in this fantasy?"

Cameron blushed, and was glad she was facing away from him. "It's embarrassing."

"Ooo, it must be good then!" He gave her a playful squeeze. "Come on, tell me about your fantasy!"

"Well, there wasn't just one. Anyway, we don't have time now, we've got to get ready."

"You know what happens to couples who stop making time to talk. Come on, now, for the sake of our relationship, I want specifics—dates, times, styles of lingerie, names of pharmaceutical reps and hospital administrators who would occasionally join in…"

"How about this? We get ready now, go to the hospital, and when you get off work, I will not only describe my fantasies, but we can act them out. How does that sound?"

"I'll go run the shower."


	58. Chapter 57

**CHAPTER 57**

The last time Cameron had passed through the doors of Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital, she was exiting them for what she figured was the last time. She walked alone, resolved to let her dream of House go. As the doors closed behind her forever, she likewise intended to close the door of that part of her life. And now, here she was, hand in hand with House, walking through those doors once more as his girlfriend—as more than his girlfriend. As someone he loved enough to admit he loved her. She looked up to see House's face as they walked through the lobby, and saw that he wore an expression of determination and defiance—with a little hint of fear, as if to say, "Yes, I am holding her hand. You got a problem?" Cameron blushed and smiled slightly. Even without the scrubs and nametags, she would have been able to identify people as hospital employees rather than patients by the startled looks on their faces. Anyone who had met, or seen, or heard of Dr. House knew enough about him that they shouldn't ever expect to see him _holding hands_ with another human being, much less in public. Their fingers were laced together and Cameron was looking up at his face, vigilantly monitoring his expressions to make sure he didn't get too uncomfortable. House pushed the elevator button with his cane, and while they waited, Cameron took her other hand, laid it on top of their joined hands, and gave him a reassuring squeeze. He smiled, laughing at himself, and kissed her tenderly on top of her head. The hospital seemed to stand still as everyone stood in open-mouthed amazement at the sight of Dr. House being affectionate, which gave him a satisfying feeling of power, and as the elevator dinged and the doors opened, he turned around to face the crowd and said, "Yes, she's hot, she's young, she's mine, _get over it_." The doors slid closed in front of an embarrassed Cameron, with her head in her hands, and a smug House, smiling mischievously.

When they were completely enclosed in the elevator, Cameron opened her mouth to chide him for embarrassing her, but House, with a playful glint in his eye, cut her off before she could say a word by pushing her against the wall and devouring her mouth with his. Cameron, caught off-guard, exclaimed slightly into his mouth, but quickly relaxed into the kiss and let her hands roam like his. As the elevator slowed to a halt as they reached their floor, the butterflies in Cameron's stomach beat their wings, and they reluctantly broke their kiss and fixed their eyes straight ahead just in time for the doors to open, and when it did they were startled to see Wilson looking back at them.

"Hey—you're—wha—Cameron?" he stammered. "What are you doing here?" he said, laughing, and opened his arms to embrace her.

"Surprise," she said, returning the hug.

"Hey! Get your hands off my woman!" said House.

Wilson groaned. "Can something not be about you, ever?" He turned his attentions back to Cameron. "So when did you get in?"

"Yest—" she began, until she was cut off by House.

"_No_," House said, answering Wilson's question and putting his arm possessively around Cameron. "Now _I_ have to go to the clinic, which _I_ really don't want to do, but if _I_ don't, then Cuddy says that _I_ will have to work extra hours."

"Greg," Cameron said, patting him on the chest. "Why don't _you_ go down to the clinic and you call me on my cell when you're ready for lunch. I'm gonna catch up with Wilson and go see Cuddy." She kissed him and shooed him into the elevator, reached her hand inside to press the button for the first floor, and turned away as the doors closed between them.

"Wow, he's whipped," said Wilson, as they sauntered together down the familiar hallway. "Very impressive."

Cameron laughed. "Nah, it only seems that way because he knew he had to do it. If he really doesn't want to do something, it still doesn't matter what I say. "

"Well, gee, you're only human. But you do have him eating out of the palm of your hand. Gregory House displaying affection. In public. Never thought I'd see the day."

"That makes two of us."

Cameron and Wilson had a nice, albeit short, visit with one another, until Wilson's 11:00 appointment showed up at his office.

"Well, I'll let you get to work. I'm gonna go see Cuddy."

Wilson gave her a quick hug, before opening his door so that she could walk out and his patient could walk in.

Cameron walked down the hallway feeling very uneasy. It was great to be back again, but it was so strange to be there under these circumstances. She'd always dreamed of the day when House would be able to love her and open up to her enough that he could show his feelings. But somehow, it seemed surreal, as if something in the building itself disapproved of their relationship. It seemed too good to be true—her dream come to life. But dreams don't come to life… or do they?


	59. Chapter 58

**CHAPTER 58**

"Come in," called Cuddy, not looking up from the paperwork that sat in copious, but meticulous, piles on her desk.

"Good morning, Dr. Cuddy" said Cameron in a mock-professional tone.

Recognizing the voice, Cuddy sprang up from her seat and the two women met each other in an embrace.

"So, how does it feel to be back?" asked Cuddy.

Cameron pondered for a moment. "Ummm… like I'm visiting my high school." She chuckled. "It's kind of weird, actually."

"Yeah, the halls seem smaller, right?" smiled Cuddy.

"Actually, sort of, yeah," she laughed back, with a touch of uneasiness that Cuddy didn't take for granted. She took the opportunity to probe a bit.

"Do you think you could be comfortable here?" she asked.

"I assume you're talking about the head of immunology position," Cameron said solemnly.

"Of course." Cameron hesitated, and before she could answer, Cuddy said, "We need to talk over lunch, don't we? And the lunch needs to be outside the hospital, doesn't it?"

Cameron nodded, and Cuddy got her purse and coat, and told her assistant she was going out to lunch and would be back in an hour.

************************

"So," began Cuddy after they had ordered their drinks. "You don't seem too thrilled with the idea of working here again."

"No, it's just complicated."

"Is anything involving House ever uncomplicated?" Cuddy asked, rolling her eyes. Cameron chuckled. "But really," resumed Cuddy. "How do you feel about this?"

"Well, first of all, I've always loved it here, and I would love to work for you again. But I also love where I am now. It would be really hard to leave. Last time we talked you said she might still be coming back."

"She's not. She's actually moving to Ohio after the baby is born to be closer to her family. So this would be permanent."

Cameron nodded thoughtfully, and opened her mouth to speak, but before she got a word out, the server came to their table to take their order. After he left, Cuddy looked at Cameron pointedly, and said, "I know it's hard to leave your job. And if you don't take this job, I completely understand. But I don't think this is about the job. I think this is about House."

Cameron looked down at the table and nervously played with her fork. She sighed. "It's stupid, really."

"Did something happen?"

"No! Not at all, everything's great. He is… well, all I can say is that he is everything to me."

"And yet you'd give up a life with him to keep your job? What's the real reason you don't want to come here?"

"It's not that I don't want to come here. It's just that, being in the hospital again brought back a lot of feelings I hadn't thought about since the day Greg showed up at my door."

"Such as…?"

"Such as the reason I left Princeton. I had to work very hard to make a life for myself that didn't involve House. And I did. But…" she paused. "I don't think I could do it again."

Cuddy studied her for a moment. "That makes sense." Cameron met her eyes. "I've gotta admit, I'm surprised. Avoiding commitment in order to protect yourself used to be House's department. You always wore your heart on your sleeve."

Cameron felt a twinge of pain at the sad realization that she necessarily had to cover up her heart, protect it, guard it. An idea that, at one point, she couldn't even comprehend.

"I'm not saying no," Cameron said. "I _have_ changed since the last time I was here. I used to think love was enough. I used to believe that doing the right thing was enough to overcome every obstacle. I've learned caution, and doubt, and double- and triple-checking. But I'm still me. I'll give you an answer by the end of the week."


	60. Chapter 59

**CHAPTER 59**

"Hey, did you hear that Sanchez is pregnant?" Wilson said as he entered House's office.

"Mazel tov. You guys gonna raise it Jewish or Catholic? I need to know because if I'm going to a bris I need to dust off my yarmulke, and if I go to a baptism I need to dust off my original sin."

"_Sanchez_…" Wilson sighed, "…is the head of immunology. So the position's opening up in 3 months."

"Who told you this?"

"Sanchez did."

House leaned back in his chair and raised his eyebrows. "Hmm," he grunted thoughtfully.

Wilson eyed him suspiciously. "What is it? What are you thinking?"

"I wonder," House began. "Why wouldn't Cuddy have told either of us about this?"

"I don't know, I don't think it has been announced yet."

"She tells us stuff that hasn't been announced all the time."

"Well, maybe she knew that since this affects you, she couldn't trust you to keep your mouth shut!"

"But she could trust you. Why did she keep this a secret?"

"I don't know, House," Wilson said, wishing he'd never told him. "I didn't tell you this so you could form some twisted conspiracy theory. I just thought you might want to bring it up to Cameron." He turned to walk out the door.

"Why didn't _she_ bring this up to Cameron?" House persisted. Wilson responded by rolling his eyes and walking out the door. House sat pondering for a few minutes, then went to find Cameron or Cuddy, whichever one he ran into first.

He decided to try the cafeteria first to try to find Cameron. When he walked into the room, he could sense a sudden stillness and nervous tension, indicating that he had been the topic of every conversation. He couldn't have cared less, and after he scanned the faces in the crowd and found her absent, he wordlessly exited the room and decided to try for Cuddy instead.

He approached Cuddy's office just as she was hanging her coat and scarf on the rack in the corner. "Have a nice lunch?" he asked loudly, startling her.

She jumped, but quickly recovered. "Jesus, House. What are you doing here?"

"Who did you go to lunch with?"

"None of your business."

"If it was with Cameron, then it is my business."

"What makes you think…"

"Cameron wasn't in the cafeteria, she wasn't in Wilson's office. You never go out for lunch, and then you both disappear at the same time? Doesn't take a genius to figure it out. Of course, me being a genius, I figured it out particularly quickly."

"Right. Well, she's on her way to your office right now. Why don't you go find her, and quit bugging me? I've got work to do." Cuddy sat down behind her desk and went back to the piles of paperwork on top of it, hoping it would shut House up, but knowing that it wouldn't.

"What I want to know is why you didn't just tell me you went out to lunch." Cuddy rolled her eyes and didn't look up from her paperwork. "There are only two reasons someone would take my girlfriend out to lunch, then lie about it. The first is that it was a date and you're having an affair—"

"You nailed it. We're having an affair," Cuddy said dryly.

"Lucky me. The second reason is that you wanted to talk about something that you didn't want me to hear. Like, oh I don't know, the fact that the position of the _head of immunology_ was opening up in three months!"

Cuddy's eyes darted to his angrily. "How did you even know about that?"

"Dr. Espinoza told Wilson herself."

"Her name is Dr. Sanchez."

"Whatever. Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because it's none of your business."

House thought about that for a moment, then turned to walk out of the room.

"You're just going to accept that?" asked Cuddy incredulously.

"Sure!" House said lightheartedly, and closed the door behind him.

Cuddy knew House was up to something. Whatever it was, though, she had interfered enough and was going to leave this between Cameron and House.


	61. Chapter 60

**CHAPTER 60**

"Hey," said Cameron when House walked through the door to his office. She got up from behind his computer and walked over to him to give him a kiss.

"What have you been doing?" he asked.

"Work stuff."

"All day?"

House's eyes read like a book, and Cameron knew immediately by his searching, intent expression that he was testing her. As much as she hoped that he wouldn't find out about Cuddy's offer until she had made her decision, she knew she couldn't lie.

"I went to lunch with Cuddy," she said nonchalantly as she turned back toward the computer.

"What did you guys talk about?" he pressed.

Cameron stopped and turned around to face House. "Somehow I get the impression that you already know."

"I want you to tell me."

"Why?"

His voice lowered. "Because I want to know why you didn't tell me before."

Cameron leaned against his desk. "Want the truth?"

"I always want the truth." His eyes lowered to the ground as he spoke and his voice was soft and gravelly.

"Cuddy offered me the position of head of immunology. I didn't want to tell you until I decided whether or not to take it."

"Fair enough."

Cameron challenged his eyes with hers. "It's okay. Ask me."

"No," he responded softly. "Just give me the answer."

"Because," she began. "This decision isn't as simple as I thought it would be. If anyone ever told me that I would even think of turning down the chance to come back here with you, I would have thought they were crazy. But this is a life-changing decision. Being back here brings back a lot of memories. I remember the feeling of being close to you and not having you. If anything were to happen to us, I don't know what I'd do. Making a life for myself in Chicago was so hard, but I did it. There are people and things I care about very much that I would be leaving behind." She sighed, and repeated, "This is not an easy decision."

As she spoke, House retreated further and further into himself. His gaze was fixed on the floor and both hands rested atop the handle of his cane as he leaned his weight onto it.

"You need to look at me," Cameron said to him, and so he met her eyes with the vulnerability that few people were ever allowed to see. "Come closer." He walked toward her and she took both of his hands in hers. "This is not because I don't want to be here with you. Do you know how much I love you?" House remained silent. "That wasn't a rhetorical question," she said firmly. "Do you know how much I love you?"

"I think so."

"But you're not sure."

House winced. "How can I be? How can anybody be?"

Cameron answered with a sad smile and a gentle squeeze of his hands. "I want you to trust me."

House brought his head to hers so that their foreheads were touching and they felt the warmth of one another's breath on their faces. His voice was barely above a whisper as he screwed his eyes shut and murmured, "You know that's hard for me."

Cameron put her hands on either side of his face and stroked his cheeks, his forehead, his ears. She ran her thumb across his lips. The contrasting textures of the smooth skin of his ever furrowed brow, like soft rolling hills, and the rough stubble of his jaw, like sand on a beach, teased the palm of her hand and brought butterflies to her stomach. She wanted to feel his face against hers.

"I know," she said, drawing his face so close to hers that her skin tingled where his stubble was less than a millimeter away. "But you have to understand." Her lips brushed the corner of his mouth. "I love you so much." House inhaled sharply, and jerked his head out of her hands, but she reacted fast and once again pulled her close to him. "I love you," she repeated, and kissed him hard on the mouth. His large hands slid up her thighs and clutched them tightly. Cameron pulled her mouth away from his just enough to repeat the words, "I love you." She continued repeating the phrase over and over again, punctuating it each time with a kiss.

"I love you."

A light kiss on his forehead.

"I love you, okay?"

Her lips brushed his ear.

"I love you."

A hard kiss on his cheek.

Each time she repeated the words, House grew more and more emotional. He clenched his hands around her thighs and then her arms so tightly it ached. He squeezed his eyes shut and nuzzled her face with his, nodding as she spoke. Each time she repeated herself, the words stabbed deeper into his heart, and, like his grip on her arms, the shared pain they inflicted on one another—hers emotional, his physical—represented the rawest, purest, most basic and primal expression of love and desire.

"I love you, you understand? I love you."

He was damn near crying, and, rather than breaking down, he channeled his emotion into lust and leaned her back onto his desk. He wrapped his hands around her wrists, pinning her down, and took her mouth in his roughly. She raised her head slightly, as they pushed and pulled with their mouths. Being trapped beneath his hands was both frustrating and erotic, as she was denied the urge to touch his body with her hands, and forced into a position of submission, where he did the giving, and she had no choice but to take what he gave. He lifted her arms up over her head and transferred both of her wrists into one hand so that his other was free to explore her body. He kissed down her neck, down her chest, down her stomach. When his lips reached the waistband of her pants, he used his free hand to undo the buttons and pull them down just enough so that she was exposed. She gasped, both out of an instinct to stop for fear someone would walk in, and out of the thrill of being taken by him in his office. He pulled his pants down a bit too, just enough so that he could thrust into her. Still holding her wrists with one hand, they mirrored each other's rhythm until they both bit their lips to keep from screaming. They panted heavily for several minutes, at which point common sense caught up with them, and they pulled themselves up and dressed. House pulled her to him, her face nestled against his strong bicep, and murmured, "Thank you."

They shared a few silent moments, until House felt Cameron's mouth widen into a smile against his arm.

"Just so you know," said Cameron looking up at him. "We just acted out my first fantasy."

House smiled adoringly, and responded by pulling her tight against him once more.


	62. Chapter 61

**CHAPTER 61**

"Come on, it'll be nice."

"No, it'll be cutting into our alone time. And by alone time, I obviously mean acting out more of your raunchy sexual fantasies."

"My sexual fantasies are not raunchy!" Cameron cried.

"Mine are," House said, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Okay, House, I'll strike you a deal," Cameron challenged.

"I'm listening, Cameron."

"I'll get Cuddy let you off clinic duty this afternoon…"

"I'm liking this plan so far."

"…and we'll go back to your apartment and act out some of _your_ sexual fantasies. Then we'll meet Carrie and Wilson for dinner."

House pondered for a moment. "Okay, it's a deal," he said, and extended his hand toward her. She shook it firmly, and his eyes danced. "Okay, you go tell Wilson we'll meet him for dinner then go work your magic on Cuddy. I'll go get some props."

Cameron had started to walk out of House's office, but she spun around with a shocked look on her face. "Props?!"

"Well, yeah," House said innocently. "If we're going to act out my sexual fantasies, I need to go get some stuff."

Cameron's expression of shock morphed into one of trepidation. "Umm, what kind of stuff?"

"If I tell you, it'll ruin the surprise," said House, smirking. Cameron's mouth dropped open and her eyes widened. "Okay, fine. But don't blame me for spoiling it for you. I just need to go pick up a cowboy hat, some chaps, a lasso, and a holster. Oh, yeah, and some handcuffs. Oh no, wait! I already have some handcuffs. So just those other things then."

Cameron nodded feebly and turned again to walk out of the office.

"Allison," called House after her. "It was a joke."

"You're a such a jerk!" she cried, unable to contain her relief.

"And you," House smiled, "are just as gullible as you were at 26."

Cameron finally made it out of the office, shaking her head as she left. Once the door closed behind her, House's smile spread uncensored.


	63. Chapter 62

**CHAPTER 62**

House was smiling like a little boy as he rode his motorcycle, with Cameron's arms wrapped around his torso. Despite the solemn commitment to his obligation to save the lives of strangers, his demeanor was calculated to suggest that he intended to claim no responsibility for anyone but himself. And now, here he was, enthralled to hold Cameron's life in his hands as she sat behind him. He loved protecting her. He loved riding without a helmet, knowing that it kept her safe. Giving her his jacket, knowing that it kept her warm. He loved taking slower turns, careful lane changes, stopping at stop signs. He abandoned the risks that thrilled him when he was alone, in favor of the greater thrill of taking extra caution to keep his most cherished pleasure safe.

At a stop light several miles from the hospital, Cameron lifted her visor and yelled to House over the loud grumble of the motorcycle. "Where are we going? What happened to acting out your sexual fantasies?"

House turned his head back as far as he could and said, "What makes you think we're not going to act out my sexual fantasies?" He revved his engine as the light turned green and they sped down the road. He finally pulled off-road and deftly maneuvered his bike through dense trees until they were completely buried in the woods. He let his bike idle while she removed her helmet.

"So," he began. "We've already had office sex, piano sex, shower sex. The next logical step is bike sex." He revved the engine and the vibration between Cameron's legs was enough to convince her.

"Well," said Cameron, nibbling his neck. "A promise is a promise." She continued slowly in this fashion, wanting to extend the pleasure of House's fantasy for as long as she could. He moved his head to oblige her wandering lips as she traced erratic patterns across the back of his neck that only House was savvy enough to make any sense of, and as she did so, his hands slid up and down her thighs, and reached above him to stroke the back of her neck. He felt her breath against his neck as she started giggling. "I can't believe I'm doing this," she whispered.

"That's what makes it exciting," he explained, feigning annoyance.

She held onto him tightly for support as she lifted her legs up to wrap tightly around his waist. She rubbed her hands down his chest, over his button-down shirt and buried her face deeper into the crook of his neck. Despite the bitter chill of the wind in the below-freezing temperatures, she began to slowly unbutton his shirt. "Ah," House moaned as he nuzzled his check across the hand that stroked his exposed, wind-whipped chest. He revved the engine again with his right hand at the same moment that his left found its way between her legs. She shuddered with excitement and clenched him tighter as she moaned. A strong gust of wind came, whipping her cold hair against both of their faces, and was followed by the soft sting of snowflakes beating down on them with accelerating intensity. They shivered with cold, but the idea of seeking shelter never crossed their minds. They knew of another way to keep warm.

At the same moment, as if it had been choreographed to the rhythm of the song of the "whoosh" of the wind through the trees, Cameron deftly swung her body around to straddle the bike facing backwards, and House slid back to accommodate her. They were now facing one another on the idling motorcycle, Cameron's legs wrapped around House, whose right leg rested on the foot peg of the bike while his left foot remained on the ground, supporting the weight of the vehicle and its two occupants. Cameron finished unbuttoning his shirt and pushed it down his arms and shook it free. At the same time, House slid his arms under his leather jacket that Cameron looked so damn good in, and let it slide off to the ground. They kissed frantically, as they shivered in the snow, and yet they continued to lift their shirts over their heads, and wrapped themselves in each other's arms. Removing their pants was a difficult and awkward business, but with the help of their desperate desire for contact and warmth, they succeeded, and quickly too. The snow blurred around them and the wind lashed at their skin, and all that stood still in the world were their eyes, blackened with arousal and fixed determinedly on one another. Because of her position, Cameron was able to look down on House as she took him inside of her. Her hands clutched at his face and she drew his lips up and ensnared them in a dominating kiss. Without parting, they drew their arms around one another and pressed their entire torsos together from top to bottom, until they conformed to one another and they achieved ultimate closeness and intimacy. It was when House reached around her and started revving the engine again that their lips broke away from each other, and, trembling with excitement and bone-chilling coldness, they both shrieked and howled as they experienced sensations they had never felt before. They rocked together, straddling the vibrating seat, and the warmth that pooled in their centers momentarily blocked out the cold. Even after they had both climaxed, they weren't ready to give up. "More!" pleaded Cameron, and they continued their rhythm in spite of their quivering, exhausted muscles. It didn't take much movement to revive their sensitive muscles, and they peaked again quite quickly, and slowly let themselves drift down, gasping at every remnant and flutter they experienced on the way. They didn't want to move, but their skin was red and aching, so they reluctantly but hurriedly dressed and started on the ride home. They walked in the door still shivering, and their bodies had begun to sting.

"I think some hot tea is in order," said House as they walked through the door.

Cameron, visibly trembling, said, "Stat," through chattering teeth. House looked worried and began to feel very guilty for taking her out into the freezing weather.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine," Cameron nodded. "I'm just going to get some dry clothes and blankets."

House didn't try to stifle his laughter at the sight of her wearing layers upon layers of his clothes, and carrying two heavy blankets out into the living room. Once the tea was ready, he joined her under the blankets on his couch, and they drank tea thawed out, breathing heavily against one another.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: Just to warn you guys, as of right now (3/10/09) I only have up to chapter 73 written. Once I get to that point, updates are going to slow down A **LOT**! Sorry in advance. :)


	64. Chapter 63

**CHAPTER 63**

House and Cameron entered the restaurant and, not surprisingly, found Wilson and Carrie already seated, buried in their menus. Cameron was still shivering despite the fact that, underneath the obligatory coats, scarves, hats, and gloves necessitated by the season for everyone, she was wearing a thick sweater on top of a long-sleeved shirt, with heavy denim jeans and boots. House had thawed out a little more than Cameron had, but even he opted for a turtleneck sweater under his suit jacket, rather than his usual button down, and was secretly wearing two pairs of socks underneath his boots.

As soon as Wilson looked up, he did a double take, and his eyes narrowed underneath his suspicious brow. "Are you guys sunburned?" he asked incredulously.

Cameron and House eyed one another awkwardly. Though the afternoon's exploits had proved to be quite memorable, not to mention out-of-this-world fantastic, the price they had paid was painted all across their skin. They both had pretty bad frostbite, but they could fairly easily tolerate the hot sting of the pain, and luckily, all suspicious areas of their bodies would naturally be covered with their winter-time attire.

"Nice try, _doctor_," House quipped condescendingly. "It's frostbite!"

"We rode House's motorcycle back from the hospital to his apartment," Cameron explained, removing her gloves.

Wilson was just about to buy that until he saw the pink, chapped skin on her hands. His eyes darted to House's matching pair and he persisted, "Wait, but if you rode the motorcycle home, why are your hands frostbitten? You must have worn your gloves!"

"Why are you so suspicious?" asked House.

"Yeah, James, leave them alone," chimed in Carrie good-naturedly.

"Sorry," he said. "Force of habit. I'm just so used to having to keep you out of trouble."

"Yeah, well, Allison's here now to do that, right?" Carrie directed her reply to Cameron.

Cameron couldn't help but see House's amused, expectant stare as he awaited her response, but she fixed her eyes straight ahead and said, "Yeah, don't worry, I'm keeping my eye on him." Wilson still seemed unconvinced, but luckily, thanks to Carrie's optimism, they had at least temporarily avoided being, quite literally, caught red-handed.

**************

Cameron was sitting in the passenger seat with House's cane on her lap, and she ran her hands across it mindlessly as she stared out the window. The dinner had been pleasant and predictable, and it had occurred to all of them (including Carrie, whom Wilson had informed of the possible opening in the hospital for Cameron, before swearing her to secrecy, unaware as he was that House and Cameron had already discussed it) that evenings like this would be common if Cameron were to move to New Jersey. Carrie had once again been struck by how much she liked House when Cameron was around him. It wasn't until she had seen the two of them together that she understood what Wilson had been trying to explain to her for years.

"How you doing?" House asked Cameron gently, alluding to her recovery from the day's events.

She smiled, still in disbelief that they did what they had done. "I'll be fine. I think I need a nice warm bath, and then I just want to curl up under the covers. We're snuggling tonight, I don't care what you say."

House shrugged. "You let me in your bath, I'll do whatever you want me to do in bed." His expression remained still, but his eyes twinkled as he struck this deal.

"You're on," said Cameron, leaning back contentedly in her chair. She closed her eyes and sighed, and House took this opportunity to look down on her and take a moment to study her and wonder, once again, how he ended up with someone like her. Her chestnut-brown hair curled in soft, smooth waves below her winter hat. Her eyes were closed, and her face was a desert sunset; warm, pink, smooth, with gentle dips and dunes that comprised her features. As he stared down at her, he wondered what it would be like to drive her home every day. To wake up next to her each morning without silently subtracting one from the number of days until she left again. To eat breakfast with her and dinner with her and see her get out of the shower and put on makeup and read books and paint her nails and pour milk and talk on the phone and brush her hair and do laundry and change the channel. What would it be like if they were always together? There were a lot of ways he could screw this up—an endless list of things he would or wouldn't do, or could or couldn't say that might drive her away. But, as he looked at that figure sitting next to him, he knew that there was one thing he would never screw up. If Cameron stayed with him, she could be sure that, whether he showed it or not, she would never for one second be taken for granted. He knew her value more than anybody else in the world, and whether he showed it or not, it glared out at him every time he set eyes on her.

They rode the rest of the way home in silence. Cameron's eyes remained closed the entire ride, but she never slept. Her thoughts had been in tandem with House's the entire trip, and she had been trying to capture and hold onto the way it would feel to live her life here with him.

"Bath time," said House when he pulled in front of his apartment and parked his car.

Cameron headed straight for the bath when they got inside.

"Cup of tea?" House called after her.

"Perfect," she yelled back over the pounding of the water. A moment later, House limped into the room without his cane, a teacup in each hand.

"Bubbles, huh?" he said skeptically. "Is this your subtle way of telling me that you wish I smelled _flowerier_?"

"It's moisturizing. Our skin needs it after today!" Cameron took her shirt off and House saw the bruises on her arms.

"Whoa! Did I do that?" he said, walking towards her and setting the teacups down on the side of the bathtub.

Cameron followed his eyes to see what he was talking about. "These bruises? Yeah, you were brutal out there."

He walked over to her to examine his handiwork closer. He lightly fingered her discolored skin with raised eyebrows. "Hmm," he said, more than a little impressed. "Not bad."

She rolled her eyes affectionately. "Thanks for your concern." With that, she stepped into the bathtub. "Ooo!" she exclaimed at the sting she felt as her wind burned skin met the scalding water in the bath.

"Aw, you okay?" House said, cringing on her behalf.

"Mm-hmm. Feels good," Cameron replied. House stepped in behind her and together they slid down. She sat between his legs, leaning up against him with her head resting on his chest. She stroked his thighs on either side of her, and he fingered her hair, neck, and shoulders. They rested in silence, mirroring the other's breathing, to the accompaniment of the rustle of the bubbles as they popped around them.

"So," said House, breaking the silence. "This bubble bath… is this some attempt at acting out one of your fantasies? Your dream of lying in a damp meadow with an elderly cripple?"

"You're gonna hate me for saying this, but the truth is that we already acted out one of my favorite fantasies."

House's head tilted to the side in surprise. "Wait a minute. You've fantasized about bike sex too? You know, you go around with those big puppy dog eyes, and you make people think you're not a complete _nympho_, but I always knew…"

Cameron giggled. "I wasn't talking about the bike sex! I was talking about dinner tonight. I loved our little double date. It really made me feel like we were together. I mean, I know we're together, but I was able to pretend that we were together all the time, like this was normal for us. It was how I imagine it would be if I lived here. It felt so good."

House's face turned solemn and he hesitated, before quietly venturing to say, "It's your decision. It could be like that."

Cameron pulled his arms down around her and nestled her head into his elbow. "I know," she said, and kissed his arm. He could feel her eyelashes against his arm as she blinked. "I won't forget it."

He squeezed her to let her know that he respected her right to make her own decision. _Although_, he thought to himself as his arousal hardened beneath her. _That doesn't mean I can't try to persuade her!_


	65. Chapter 64

**CHAPTER 64**

House's room was so pitch black that even after her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she still had to walk gingerly, grabbing on to anything she could for support and to keep herself oriented. She grazed her fingers gingerly along the wooden footboard, then curved around the corner so that she was on House's side of the bed. She sat down, reached her left hand over him to rest on the bed behind him, leaned close to his face, and whispered, "House."

He stirred awake, but his first thought was that it had been a dream or his imagination, and so, without ever opening his eyes, he simply grumbled unintelligibly and settled deeper into his pillow.

"House," the voice came again. He now acknowledged that the voice was real, and became aware of the fact that Cameron was no longer lying next to him in his bed. But why would she be waking him up? And why was she calling him House instead of Greg?

She flipped the light switch on and he cringed. "Ah!" he mumbled, and held his hand up to shade his eyes, one of which he reluctantly opened, to find Cameron sitting, fully dressed—including coat, hat, and scarf, peering down at him with a concerned look on her face. "What's the matter?" he asked, confused. "What's going on?"

"House, it's me, Cameron. I need you to hear me out."

"What time is it?" House was trying to make sense of what was going on here. He suspected that, for whatever reason, he was having a particularly hard time shaking off this dream.

"About 4 am. House, I know you don't want to hear this, but you have to listen. I couldn't sleep. I had to come over here. I couldn't stand to be in my apartment, I couldn't be alone anymore."

"_What?_"

She lifted her left hand up off the bed and slowly brought it to his cheek. "I know you need to be alone. I know you don't want me or anybody else intruding on your life. I know that you don't want any relationships or complications, especially involving me. But I can't do this anymore." Her touch became harder, and she brought her other hand to the other side of his face, and held him firmly, forcing him to look her in the eyes. "I'm sorry, but I'm going crazy, and I need your help! For three years, I've been working side by side with you, not able to touch you or be near to you." Here, she began to remove her outer layers. She deliberately unrolled her scarf from around her neck, threw her hat behind him on his bed, unbuttoned her coat and slid it down her arms as she spoke. "I don't care if you don't want a relationship, I don't care if you fire me tomorrow—I can't go one more night without you! I need you! Please!"

It was when she took his lips into her mouth, with a desperation and urgency that left him stunned and covered with goose bumps, that he realized what she was doing. She had promised him that they would act out one of her fantasies that night, and she was delivering. He remembered the night she came into his room and woke him up years ago, but he had long since pushed it into the back of his mind, trying to make himself believe that she had barged into his room out of mere concern for his well-being, rather than out of some insatiable, carnal desire that, in the end, she lost the nerve to follow through with. He remembered waking up to find her hovering over him as he slept, and feeling fear and panic drown out the initial impression that this was too hot to refuse. He was, as was his character, too quickly overcome with rational thought, and so his feelings of lust were almost immediately eclipsed by rage and a sudden feeling of claustrophobia. As much as he had wanted her, his desire to get her away from him, out of his mind, had been much more powerful. He let these feelings rise again to play into her fantasy. He roughly tore her hands from his face and pulled his head back from hers, managing to unclamp her lips from his. He held her wrists tightly and squeezed them as a warning that she should get the hell out of his room, or she could expect to be in a lot more pain than she felt right now. A mere breath away from her face, he gritted his teeth, his eyes dilated, and he snarled, "Cameron, go home!"

Her stomach fluttered in excitement to see him act out his part so convincingly that she was actually struck with a pang of fear that only served to spur her on further.

"I'm not going anywhere!" she said between shallow breaths. She lifted her head up ever so slightly so that their faces almost touched. "I'm not leaving until you give me what I came for."

"Cameron," House said, the temperature of his too-quiet voice matching that of his icy glare. "I'm warning you. Get out of here."

"Shut up!" With that, she rolled him onto his back and straddled him, pinning down his wrists and using her entire body to hold him down. She forced his shirt off his head and held him down by pressing her hands into his chest, while at the same time, leaning her head down to kiss and lick his sternum and abdomen.

House's role of playing himself came all too easily to him. Although he had learned over time to accept what she offered him despite his instinctive suspicion of receiving anything that didn't come with strings, his fear and doubt and his defensive nature were all things that he still wrestled with every single day. He had learned to keep them at bay the more he learned to trust Cameron, but right now he dredged them up easily to enhance scene they were acting out. He resisted her seduction for as long as he could, until he finally let his will be broken and gave into her, finally giving up his struggle and succumbing to the moment.

Although Cameron had talked a big talk—acting as though she was intending to use him mercilessly for her own pleasure, the way she made love couldn't hide her true desire—to _give_ him all the pleasure she had it in her to give. She never _took_ anything in bed; the more he offered her, the more she gave to him. Luckily for both of them, this stubborn aversion to being on the receiving end of pleasure resulted in the most consistently honest, open, erotic, and amazing sexual encounters two people can share.

They finished and collapsed on the bed.

"You're quite the actor!" she complimented him.

"And you," he said in an accusatory manner, "are full of surprises."


	66. Chapter 65

**CHAPTER 65**

"And?"

"Yeah, I'm gonna do it."

Cuddy came up from behind her desk to give Cameron a hug. "That's terrific! It'll be great to have you back."

Cameron laughed. "Well, thanks. I'm excited too."

"Who knows? Maybe when you start working here, House will finally ease up on the whole bitter, self-loathing attitude. He may even become tolerable to work with."

Cameron eyed Cuddy cynically. "Do you really believe that'll happen?"

Cuddy smiled widely. "No. But a girl can dream, right?"

"Yeah, well, let me just say that I hope you're hiring me for some other reason besides making House more bearable to work with. If you don't have faith in my medical expertise, you're going to regret this decision real fast," Cameron joked.

"Well, lucky for us, I think you are perfect to head up our immunology department," Cuddy replied, and stuck her hand toward Cameron, who accepted it in a handshake. "Welcome aboard… again."

****************

Cameron rapped on the glass door of House's office, and studied him for a moment before she walked in. He sat buried within a file, the sleeves of his button down shirt rolled up to his elbows, surrounded by two huge reference books and several journals spread over his desk. From beneath his reading glasses, his blue eyes darted from one periodical to the next, flashing up to his computer screen that presumably displayed articles on the same topic as those on his desk, and disappeared into the file once more. He stuck his pen in his mouth as he pivoted his chair so that he faced his computer, and his fingers flew across the keyboard, eager to retrieve all the information he could find to shed light on whatever challenges that his current case might present.

House looked up when she came into the room, and he stopped his typing and swung around in this chair to face her squarely. "Hey," he said, removing his glasses. The word was muffled due to the fact that the pen was still in his mouth. Cameron smiled and walked toward him.

"Hey," she said, and playfully grabbed the pen away from him. She was surprised by the weight, and looked down to examine it. "Fancy pen," she said with raised eyebrows. "Is that a sapphire on there?"

"Gift from Wilson. And by 'gift from Wilson,' I mean one of his cancer patients gave it to him and I took it out of his laptop case and told him the janitor stole it."

"I see," said Cameron simply, placing the pen back on House's desk. She knew it was useless to protest, so she let it slide… while concocting a scheme to sneak it back to Wilson without House knowing about it. "Are you busy? I could come back."

"Nah," said House dismissively. "Patient's got at least 6 hours left before her liver is deteriorated beyond repair, it's fine."

She screwed her brow in a worried expression, and said, wide-eyed, "No, it's okay, go help your patient!" She turned to go.

"Allison!" House called behind her. "I was kidding, she's fine."

She rolled her eyes and slugged him playfully on the shoulder.

"You're a jerk," she said with a smile.

"Astute observation. So, what's up?"

"Well, I just came back from Cuddy's office. I accepted the position."

House's eyes brightened and he almost managed to stifle the smile that tried to spread across his face. "You sure that's what you want?"

"Yeah. I am, actually."

"Come over here," he said, patting his left thigh. She obeyed and settled into his lap, wrapping her arm around his neck. He brought his hand to her neck and guided her lips toward his, taking them gently in a soft kiss. He started to pull away, but she brought his mouth to his with determination and they let their hands start to wander. Cameron had undone his shirt buttons down to his lower chest, and House's hand was sliding far up her thigh, when they were startled by the door swinging open and an exclamation from a surprised and embarrassed Wilson.

Cameron gasped, and Wilson stammered, "I'm sorry, I didn't know— I'll just go—"

"Oh, will you two just relax?" said House exasperatedly, as he buttoned his shirt back up. "Sorry, Allison, Wilson's just jealous because he never gets to kiss girls. You see, Wilson, in _healthy_ relationships, couples very often choose to use sexual intercourse as a way of showing their love for one another. Carrie and I will explain it to you when you're older."

"I'm so sorry," said Cameron, embarrassed. "I was just telling House that I accepted the job here and we got a little excited…"

"You took the job? That's great!" Wilson stretched his arms to her and gave her a hug.

"Keep your hands where I can see them," said House.

"You know what?" began Wilson. "I think House has some work to do. You free for lunch?"

"Sure am," said Cameron. "Let's go." They both turned toward the door.

"Allison?" House called after her. The spun to look at him, and saw him motioning, his hand outstretched, to give him something. Cameron sighed and trudged over to him, annoyed that her plan had been foiled.

"Fine," she sulked as she placed Wilson's pen back into House's hands.

"Thank you. Now you can go," said House triumphantly.

"What was that about?" asked Wilson.

"She was returning my lighter," lied House. "Have a good lunch, you two."

"Let's go," said Cameron.

House smiled victoriously to himself as the door closed behind him, and he heard Wilson's confused voice trailing off as he asked, "Wait, why does he have a lighter…?" He chuckled for a moment, and returned to his paperwork.


	67. Chapter 66

**CHAPTER 66**

"Honey, I'm home!" House called as he walked through the door to his apartment.

"I'm in the bedroom," Cameron called.

House approached his room and found the door slightly ajar. He pushed it open with the tip of his cane and peered in the room. His eyes widened at what he saw. "What are you doing?!"

Cameron turned to face him. "What?" she asked, innocently.

"Why are your clothes on?" He had walked in to find Cameron sitting, fully dressed, on his bed, working on her laptop.

"Why wouldn't they be?"

House exaggerated an exasperated sigh. "_Because_," he said patronizingly. "When I get off work, and you call to me from the bedroom, I expect you to be either naked, or wearing some sort of sexy costume or dominatrix gear. Now that we're moving in together, we have to learn to adapt to the other's lifestyle, you know."

"Sorry, I forgot," she said, setting her laptop on the bed and coming over to kiss him. "I do have dinner in the oven, though."

"How quaint."

"I thought so."

"So, what are you working on here?" he said, indicating the computer.

"My resignation letter for Rush."

"I hope it's nothing like your resignation letter from Princeton Plainsboro," he teased.

"Yeah, well, if my boss is anything like you, he won't read it for 6 years anyway!" she retorted.

"Is your boss anything like me?" House challenged.

"Not at all. So I guess it's lucky that this isn't anything like my resignation letter from Princeton Plainsboro."

"Good. What's for dinner?"

*************************

"So when you heading back?" asked House as Cameron came over to join him on his couch.

"Tomorrow."

He pulled his head back to look at her. "Tomorrow? Why so soon?"

"I've been here all week. How much time do you think I can take off work?" She pulled his arms around her. "Don't worry, though. Pretty soon, you'll be seeing more of me than you can handle," she replied.

House tilted his head in scrutiny. "No, actually, I've found that there is no such thing as seeing too much of you." Before Cameron had the chance to be touched, he finished his thought, saying, "Actually, my favorite view of you is when I can see all of you."

"Uh-huh. Wow, you really know how to charm a girl, you know that?"

"I was born genteel. Why don't you leave Sunday instead? You don't have to go back to work till Monday, and I'm off tomorrow."

"Because, Chase is lecturing at UIC and he's getting in tomorrow. He, Michael and I are going to dinner, and Michael's going to stay with me on Sunday."

"Who's Michael and why is he staying with you?" he asked with mock suspicion.

"Chase's son! You saw him, remember?"

"Oh, that's right." He turned away from her. "Well that sucks. You can't spend the weekend with me because you have to entertain your ex-lover and his spawn?"

"Oh, come on, Greg. You can't be jealous!"

He rolled his eyes at her. "I'm not jealous. I'm just annoyed. You've been here for a week and I've had to work every day, and the two days we both have off, you have to go run off with some twerp you used to date." He took a moment. "Sorry, I'm just pissed you're leaving. It's got nothing to do with Chase."

"Good," said Cameron. "You know," she began, as an idea dawned on her. "It really does suck that we're both off this weekend and we can't be together. Because, you know, I'll be in Chicago and you'll be here. Now, I have to go to Chicago, and you _have_ to stay here, right?" Her eyes twinkled.

House raised an eyebrow. "Are you suggesting that I spend the weekend in Chicago with you… and Chase?" He considered for a moment. "Oh, he is so going down!"


	68. Chapter 67

**CHAPTER 67**

"I got it!" House announced eagerly the second the three raps on the door sounded. Cameron rolled her eyes and hurriedly walked from the bedroom to the living room to avoid leaving Chase and Michael alone with House. She was still coming down the hall when she heard the door open. Silence.

Chase was stunned to see House standing in the doorway, wearing the familiar smirk on his face that had always indicated that he knew something that no one else had figured out yet.

"Um… hi," Chase stammered, his face blank with surprise. His first fleeting thought was an irrational concern that he had the wrong apartment. Of course, he quickly dismissed that possibility.

"Hi," House replied brightly, with intentional ambiguity.

Chase looked back toward the stairs, seemingly looking for an escape.

"Um, is… Cameron home?" he asked, wholly confused and at a complete loss for words. The small boy at his side was unaffected by the tense atmosphere, and peered around Chase's leg. House had only seen the boy sick, lying down. House appraised the boy now, as though for the first time. His silhouette was a perfect rectangle. He wore khaki cargo pants and a zip-up hooded sweatshirt under his open winter coat. His hat hid his sandy blond hair, and accentuated his round face. His greenish brown eyes were alert and his face was expectant as he looked around the room.

"Cam?" Michael called, with his watered down Australian accent.

"Michael!" Cameron replied warmly, and the child's face lit up. He pulled his hands from his father's loose grasp and ran to Cameron with his arms held out. She scooped him up and gave him a kiss on his cheek. "How are you?"

"Good," he replied, suddenly shy.

"What did you do today?"

"Umm…" Michael's eyes searched around the room while he tried to think. "Well," he stalled. Then it came to him. "We went on an airplane!"

"Oh, wow! Was it big?" she asked, as if it was the most exciting thing she had ever heard.

He was delighted with her apparent excitement. "Yeah. It was big, and also... oh, yeah. I got juice and crackers, but I wasn't hungry so my dad said I could keep the crackers in my bag for later." He proudly displayed his new backpack.

"Whoa, cool!" Cameron responded, then put him down so that she could explain to a seemly catatonic Chase why his old boss had answered her door. Michael knew her apartment well, so he immediately ran to his usual place to play, in front of the couch, and dumped the contents of his backpack onto the floor.

"Hey, Chase," she greeted him, walking past House to stand in front of him, and gave him a warm hug.

This pulled Chase from his trance. "So… what's new?" he asked significantly.

"Well…"

"Cam?" Michael asked, running to her, brandishing her remote control. "Can you turn on the tv?"

"Sure, let me turn it on." She turned back to Chase. "One sec."

While she helped Michael find something to watch, House looked Chase up and down.

"You cut your hair," he pointed out.

"Uh, yeah. Like 30 times since I last saw you."

Silence.

"So, how's Wilson?" Chase asked, fishing for something to talk about.

"Good," House replied, pleased by the awkward silence. Seeing Chase flounder was highly amusing to him.

"He's, uh, married again, right?"

"Yep."

"Yeah, I got the invitation, but I wasn't able to make it."

"Oh."

"Sorry, guys," said Cameron, rushing back to the doorway. She noted Chase's discomfort. "Let's sit down," she suggested, and led the way into the living room.

"So," she began. "It's been a pretty eventful couple weeks."

"Obviously," Chase replied, his eyebrows raised. Now that the shock was slowly wearing off, he was beginning to relax.

"Well," Cameron said, throwing House a significant look. His expression remained ambiguous. She rolled her eyes at him. He winked. "Basically, he came to visit Chicago and stopped by."

She paused, and he took the opportunity to ask House what brought him to Chicago.

"Actually," Cameron answered for him. "He came to see me. Long story short, he basically followed after me… it just took him six years." She smiled at him.

"Wow." Chase was in utter amazement. His voice brightened, as did his mood. Under normal circumstances, he would have been thrilled that Cameron had found someone. The only thing keeping him from true enthusiasm was his lingering distrust of House. "So," he said, directing his new line of questioning toward House. "How long have you been in town?"

He opened his mouth to speak, but again Cameron purposely blurted out a response before giving him the chance to answer. "He actually came the night you left last time you were here. But we went to Princeton for a while, too, so I guess we've gone back and forth."

"Wow," Chase said again. "That's… that's big news." There was an awkward silence. "Sorry, guys, I'm not trying to be rude, I'm just sort of shocked. No offense, House, but I never expected to see you again." He quickly added, "Not that I didn't want to see you again, but I didn't expect to see you with Cameron." Again, he fumbled for his words. "Not that I think it's a bad thing that you're with Cameron." His eyes widened as he threw Cameron a frightened glance. He wanted to have a good long heart-to-heart with Cameron about this, but he certainly didn't want to scare House off by defining their relationship. "I mean, if you _are_ together." His voice trailed off, as he made a pathetic attempt at damage control by adding the codicil, "I don't know..."

"Wow," said House, his voice full of condescending admiration. "That was impressive."

"Greg!" Cameron admonished under her breath. She threw him a guilty glance when he started at her use of his first name. "Chase, it's fine. I haven't scared him off yet; I doubt you will."

"Daddy," Michael called as he abandoned his toys and toddled toward the couch.

"Yeah, buddy?"

He went right up to Chase and grabbed his hand as though he were about to tell him something very important. "I'm hungry," he whined.

Cameron chuckled indulgently, and House rolled his eyes. "Okay, buddy, we'll get dinner soon. Want some of your airplane crackers?"

"Okay."

Chase retrieved the bag from Michael's backpack and opened it for him.

"Should we go to dinner now?" Cameron asked Chase and House.

"He'll be okay for a while if it's too early for you guys."

"I don't care," said House noncommittally.

"Okay, let's go," said Cameron brightly.

As Chase got his son bundled up to go out, he reflected that House had been unusually removed from the conversation, which aroused his suspicions. Was he planning something? Was he waiting to pounce? Or was he just happy? Chase couldn't guess which option (if any) was the most likely. After seeing him and Cameron together, anything seemed possible.


	69. Chapter 68

**CHAPTER 68**

House made sure that the short cab ride to the restaurant was an awkward one. He held the car open and motioned for Cameron to enter, and then he conspicuously ducked in after her so that he was seated between her and Chase in the cramped space, with Michael seated on Chase's lap.

Cameron instructed the cab driver to take them to a family-friendly sandwich shop where she, Chase, and Michael would often go. After a moment of silence, Cameron, in an effort to lessen the awkwardness of the situation, tried to engage Chase in conversation that didn't revolve around her and House.

"So," she began, leaning forward to peer around House. "How's everything going in Minnesota?"

"Good, good. Cold. It was minus six degrees when we got on the plane," Chase replied. The weather. That was a nice, safe topic.

"Whoa. It hasn't gotten that cold here… yet. It's only a matter of time, though. Probably after Christmas."

"Yeah, looks like it's gonna be a white one—already got some snow, I see," Chase responded, trying to lean forward with his son in his lap. He wasn't quite able to make it past House. He tried another strategy, trying to lean back and look behind House's back, but House seemed to shift back in his seat just in time to block Chase's view.

"Yeah," House jumped in. "Tell you what, though. That snow can be brutal if you're not dressed properly." He shot a conspiratorial glance toward Cameron, who narrowed her eyes at him, recalling their recent adventure in the woods back in Princeton. House directed his attention to the small boy in his father's lap. "Gotta keep that hat on, huh Mike?"

"Uh-huh!" Michael agreed enthusiastically.

Chase instinctively held his son slightly tighter when House spoke to him.

"Yeah, um," Cameron fumbled. "So what time is your lecture tomorrow?"

"Three pm. I'll probably leave your place around one or one thirty."

"I was thinking maybe Greg and I could take Michael to the Museum of Science and Industry. There's a lot of hands-on stuff that would probably be fun for Michael… and Greg," she amended. House's eyes did light up at the prospect.

"That sounds fun," Chase said enthusiastically. "Huh, Michael?"

"Yeah," Michael said, having no idea what he was responding to.

The cab pulled to the curb in front of the restaurant. When the four of them got situated, Michael in his high chair, the waitress came to take their order.

"I'll have the club sandwich," Cameron began.

"I'll have the chicken salad sandwich and some chicken fingers for him," Chase said, indicating Michael, his little eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he shoved his purple crayon with all his might back and forth in the general vicinity of a cartoon duck on his paper placemat.

"Chicken fingers," House said simply, his eyes on Michael. "The grown up portion."

Cameron and Chase shared an amused glance at the fact that House and the two-year-old had predictably ordered the same meal.

"Hey, can I?" House asked Michael, reaching for a crayon.

Michael replied with a surprised stare, and then by handing House the green crayon.

House held up the crayon for Michael to see. "What color is this?" he asked in a tone that implied that the answer was obvious.

"Umm… green!" said Michael proudly.

"Good job," House said, and slapped him five. He then began on an oversized bird.

While the two of them were hard at work, Cameron and Chase took the opportunity to have a more natural conversation about work, a book Chase had recently read on Cameron's recommendation, and life in general. Besides House's occasional comments to Michael ("You know, you're coloring outside the lines" and the like), they pretty much tuned the two of them out and enjoyed an adult conversation.

The meal was unexpectedly pleasant, and Chase felt marginally more comfortable with the thought of his son spending the day with House, seeing the two of them bond over crayons and chicken fingers. They all returned to Cameron's apartment and spent the evening watching tv and catching up and, in Chase's case, waiting for the opportunity to speak to Cameron alone.


	70. Chapter 69

**Chapter 69**

Chase nestled slightly deeper into the mattress of Cameron's uncommonly comfortable pullout sofa bed, savoring the sensation of slowly drifting into consciousness to the cheerful babble of coffee as it percolated, rather than being jerked awake by the relentless blaring of his alarm clock as usual. For a few minutes, he kept his eyes closed, listening to the "pat-pat-pat" of Cameron's bare feet on the tile kitchen floor, enjoying the satisfying aroma of freshly made coffee, and feeling Michael's even breaths warm his back at regular intervals. After a while, though, he sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, yawning and running his hands through his hair. He glanced back at his bedmate, who was still deeply asleep. A glance at his watch sitting on a nearby end table told him that it was 8:30. Generally speaking, Michael slept later than usual the day after travelling, and Chase knew he'd probably be out for at least another half hour, so he decided to go enjoy a cup of coffee and some quality time with Cameron.

"Hey," Cameron smiled up at him from her seat at the kitchen table. She was perched cross-legged on her chair, her bare feet peeking out from under her knees, dressed in her pajama pants and t-shirt that she had worn to bed. Her hair was as yet uncombed, she wore no make-up, and the smell of mint from her recently-brushed teeth was still strong on her breath. His untroubled countenance didn't betray the pang of longing as he was struck by the familiarity of this scene, already having been played out hundreds of times between him and his deceased wife.

"G'morning," he replied softly in his Aussie lilt. "Sleep okay?"

"Yeah, like a rock. You?"

"Great, great. That pullout couch is more comfortable than my bed!"

Cameron smiled, and started to get up to get a couple coffee mugs.

"No, don't get up, I got it," Chase insisted, then filled the mugs and brought them to the table. "So, I take it House is still sleeping?"

She breathed a laugh. "Like the dead."

He chuckled too, recalling the days of working with House, and the unpredictable times he would choose to show up. "Yeah, that sounds about right," he commented, and they laughed nostalgically for a moment before Chase's eyes became probing. "Okay, so dish," he commanded. "What exactly is going on with the two of you?"

Cameron sighed, reflecting on all that had happened in the last few months, and trying to decide where to begin. "Get ready, it's a pretty long story."

"Okay," Chase replied accommodatingly.

Cameron started from the night he showed up at her door and gave him a detailed account of the events that had followed. The story of House's mother dying so soon after he and Cameron had reunited explained the question of how they had become so serious so fast. Her thorough and candid testimony was such that his wariness of House and the situation abated slightly as she spoke.

She brought him up to speed on all events up until the point where she was offered the job back in Princeton. She wanted to let the rest sink in before she dropped that bomb.

Chase listened intently as Cameron spoke, trying to absorb all this information with an open mind. His comments were few, far between, and noncommittal. He wanted to reserve his opinion until he heard her out completely. When she had finished her story, he was silent for a moment as he pondered.

"So," he said, breaking his silence. "On a scale of one to ten, how happy does he make you?"

Cameron smiled and sighed. "I wish I had a more interesting answer to give you than ten." Chase raised his eyebrows. "I don't know, I just can't explain it. I don't have one single complaint about him or our relationship. Even the things I used to have a problem with… I've learned to deal with them."

"Such as?"

"Well, like the way he behaved at his mother's funeral. Like I told you, I thought I was going to leave then and there, but… it's just so easy to deal with. So easy to fix, that it's not a problem." She paused, and chose her words carefully. "The least happy I have been since he came back into my life has still been just blissful."

"I don't know, Cameron. I'm really happy to hear that, but I just don't want you to get hurt. He doesn't have a good track record with this kind of thing."

"Yeah, but who does? Every relationship either passes or fails. Every single person on the planet, except for people like us, who have outlived their significant others, has failed at every relationship they've ever had for some reason or other. His track record is no worse than any other single man in his 50s." Even as she said it, she knew the easy loophole Chase would bring up.

"No, what makes him worse is the way he treats the people he's around. The issue isn't the fact that his relationships have failed, the issue is _why_ they've failed, and how much the people involved have suffered—including House. I realize there are reasons that he treats people the way he does, but that doesn't mean that it will hurt you any less."

"_If_ things don't work out," Cameron pointed out.

"Not necessarily," Chase persisted. "He could still hurt you, even though he loves you. You're one of my favorite people; I don't want to see you hurt."

"I appreciate your concern," Cameron said sincerely. "But this is a good bet. I mean, yeah, it's real life. I know how it is. I realize things can change, I realize things go wrong, but I'm telling you, the risk is minimal… and worth it."

"Okay," Chase conceded. "I don't trust him as much as you do, but I do trust you. If you're positive about his, I'll trust your judgment."

"Good… 'cause there's one more thing."

"O…kay?"

"I'm moving in with him."

"So soon?" Chase asked in surprised disapproval.

"I don't think either of us feels like it's soon. I mean, cumulatively, it's been almost ten years." They both cringed just a little bit—after all, she and Chase had been in a relationship for a part of those ten years. It didn't come as a shock to Chase, however.

"I'm going back to PPTH. The head of immunology is leaving soon and I'm going to take over."

"All right. Just be careful, Cameron. You're playing with fire."

"I know," she said, smiling widely. "I like the heat."


	71. Chapter 70

**Chapter 70**

House was sound asleep, lying on his back with his face turned to the side and his cheek buried in his pillow. Cameron drew herself onto the bed in nearly the same position, only laying herself partially on top of him. He awoke to the sensation of her breath on his neck beneath his ear, and the sound of water running in the shower.

"Mmmph," he mumbled groggily in to the pillow.

"Time to wake up," Cameron crooned into his ear.

She was forced to sit up when he took the pillow from beneath his face, and put it on top of his head, still lying face down on the bed, clutching to it petulantly.

She bent over so that she was on her hands and knees in the bed and started kissing his spine and the small of his back over his shirt, sending a shock of excitement from his stomach on downward. "Come on, time to get out of bed," she said in between kisses.

His husky moan was muffled into the mattress as Cameron gingerly straddled him and pushed his shirt up his back so she could access his bare skin. His body tensed, but then quickly relaxed, when her breath first tickled his flesh. Her breath was hot and close as she skimmed her nose back and forth across his lower back, her hair following lazily. She chafed her flattened palms up and down his sides and her thighs involuntarily tightened slightly around his midsection as her mouth opened and her tongue became involved in her ministrations. She began tracing patterns firmly with the tip of her tongue, and then softened into gentle laps, before kissing them dry.

"Where's Chase?" House asked, still talking into his mattress.

"Shower," Cameron murmured absently, still hard at work.

"Where's the kid?" House asked in the same fashion.

"Still asleep," Cameron replied. She abruptly tickled his sides to prompt him to ditch the pillow and turn over, and her lips continued uninterrupted, only now they were buried in the crook of his neck. "Arms up," she commanded. House lifted his arms obediently, and she peeled his shirt over his head, threw it to the side, and continued across his collarbone.

"Am I tasty?" House asked conversationally.

"Mm-hmm," she hummed, moving toward his chest.

"Can I taste _you_ now?"

"Mm-mmm," she refused, attending to his sternum.

"Oh. Why?"

"Not finished." She made her way to his stomach.

"Oh. Okay." He settled in patiently.

Her tongue teased the waistband of his pajama pants down slightly. When she'd had her fill of that, she used her hands to inch them down farther, farther. She continued kissing down to the soft skin of his inner thigh, where his femur joined his pelvis, forcing him to spread his legs slightly. She then moved to his opposite side.

House was quietly going crazy—her mouth was achingly close to him, he was more than ready for her, but she was certainly in no hurry.

"Oh my god," House said abruptly, and squirmed anxiously.

"Mmm," Cameron moaned in reply.

He took her head in both of his hands and pulled it up. "No, I mean _oh my god!_" Cameron looked up at him curiously, and saw that his eyes were wide in horror. "Get up, get up," he hissed, and looked in the direction of the door.

Standing in the middle of the doorway was the small figure of Chase's son, a puzzled expression on his face.

"Oh, shit," Cameron whispered, too quietly for Michael to hear, scrambling off of House as he pulled his pants back into place.

Michael frowned at her in confusion. "Cam, are you looking for something on the bed?" he asked haltingly.

"Uh, yeah, it was, uh—"

"She was looking for my shirt," House inserted, then reached over to grasp it and held it up for Michael as proof. "Found it though." He quickly put it back on.

"Why did you have your shirt off?" Michael asked curiously.

"I was gonna go swimming."

A smiled spread across Michael's face. "You can't go swimming in the bed!" he laughed, as though House's silly joke was the funniest thing he'd ever heard.

"You can't?" House asked, wide-eyed.

"No!"

"Where do you go swimming then?"

"In the pool!"

"Oh, yeah," he said, slapping the heel of his hand against his forehead. "I forgot."

Michael broke down into laughter again.

At that moment, the door to the bathroom opened and Chase came out with a towel wrapped around his waist. He started to turn left, but then caught sight of Michael to his right.

"Hey, buddy, what are you doing?"

"He's going swimming in the bed!" Michael exclaimed, pointing to House.

"That's silly," Chase replied. Then he herded Michael back into the direction of the living room, closing the bedroom door behind him.

"Nice outfit," House called after Chase.

After the door closed completely, Cameron hid her face in House's chest. "Oh my god, what if we scarred him for life?"

"Oh, he didn't see anything," House said dismissively.

"Chase would _kill_ me," she whined.

"Don't worry. I got your back."

She lifted her flaming red face from his chest. "Well, that was a bit of a romance killer."

"Just a romance sedative. We can wake it back up." He started to take his shirt off again.

"No way!" Cameron cried. "We are not fooling around until this place anymore while there's still a kid here."

"Well, then, I hope you weren't planning on ever having kids. No sex for eighteen years! I think that's the definition of hell in some religions."

"Well, don't worry, I don't think I'll ever have to cross that bridge."

"Good, our sex life will remain the envy of all who see it."

"All who _see_ it?" Cameron asked, raising her eyebrows.

"Oh," House said in mock surprise. "Are you not into that?"

"Ha, ha," Cameron replied dryly. "Now get up and get moving. We're going to the museum today, remember?"

House reluctantly hauled himself out of bed and limped heavily toward the door. "Sure you don't wanna join me?" he asked as he walked, throwing a glance back at her.

"Don't make me throw a shoe at you!" Cameron threatened playfully.

"Come on, I'll make it worth your while," he persisted.

"Hey, I mean it. Get your horny ass in that shower," she laughed.

He turned his head back toward the door. "But I'll be so lonely, how will I—_ow!_" His hand flew to the back of his head as the projectile hit the ground with a heavy thud. He looked around in disbelief to find his own brown lace-up laying innocently on the floor beside him. He met Cameron's smug gaze with wide eyes. Her mouth spread into a fiendish, "I-told-you-so" grin.

"Hey, it could have been worse," she said, playing with a black stiletto pump in her hands. She raised it above her head menacingly. "Now, git!"

"I can't believe you did that," said House, shocked—but with a distinct air of admiration—as he walked out of the room, rubbing the back of his head. On either side of the closed door, House and Cameron shared the same quiet chuckle.


	72. Chapter 71

**Chapter 71**

"That was awesome!" House exclaimed. He was walking beside Cameron, who was towing Michael along by the hand, through a corridor at the Museum of Science and Industry. "Hey, Mike, what'd ya think?"

"I think it was awesome!" he cried. House was pleased at his response, even if Michael was simply repeating what he had just said. Cameron seemed to enjoy the exhibit, but House knew that Michael would be the one to display his idea of the appropriate enthusiasm.

"What else?" Cameron prodded.

"I think... it was a really big boat!" Michael replied.

"It's not a boat, it's a submarine," House explained excitedly. "A boat floats on the water, but a sub travels underneath!" (House was oblivious to Michael's waning attention span.) "That was actually from World War II! Do you know about World War II?"

"Uh-huh," Michael replied absently, guessing at the correct response to the question. House frowned skeptically.

"House, he's two," Cameron reminded him.

"So what? This is a museum; he's supposed to be learning."

"Well, I don't know if he's quite ready for US history, or marine biology for that matter," she continued. House shrugged.

"Well, the stuff he is ready for is all boring."

Cameron shot him an exasperated glance before turning her attention back to the child in question. "Hey, Michael, guess what! Next, you get to stick your hand in a big bucket of worms! Does that sound like fun?"

"Uh-huh," Michael repeated, looking all around in wonder, not having any idea what Cameron had said. She chuckled.

When they reached the exhibit about the "Green Revolution," Michael was able to keep himself busy for a while, giving House and Cameron a chance to talk.

"So," Cameron began. "I was wondering if you had any plans for Christmas."

"Besides my yearly pilgrimage to Bethlehem, I'm wide open," he quipped.

"Because every year I'm not working, I go to my parents' house in Connecticut, and I was wondering if you wanted to come. You know, meet my family."

Predictably, House's first reaction was trepidation and intense discomfort. He thought somberly for a moment.

"Do they know about me?" he asked.

"Of course," Cameron replied, surprised that he would even have to ask. "My mom and sisters have known everything from the beginning. My dad and brothers just picked up the basics, but they all know I'm moving back to Jersey and why."

"Whoa," House said, impressed and taken aback. "So, you actually talk to your family then?"

"Umm... yeah," she replied.

"Wow. I didn't know people still did that."

"It does happen."

He gave Cameron a probing look for a moment. "Your family is actually functional, isn't it?" he said incredulously.

"Sufficiently so, yeah."

"I should have guessed. Only someone who grew up in a Norman Rockwell painting could have turned out as wholesome as you."

Cameron rolled her eyes. "Well, what do you think?" she pressed.

"I think... I think I definitely need to see this for myself."

"Good," Cameron replied brightly. "'Cause I already told them you were coming."


	73. Chapter 72

**Chapter 72**

"Got your backpack?" Chase asked Michael, taking inventory as they headed toward the door.

"Yeah, I got it," Michael responded, turning his body slightly so that Chase could see for himself.

When Chase was satisfied that he had everything, he set his bags down and gave Cameron a warm hug goodbye. "Thanks, as always."

"You're welcome as always," Cameron smiled back. "Great seeing you."

House bent down toward Michael. "Fist bump," he said, extending his clenched hand toward the small boy, who proudly knocked his small fist against House's, excited to show off the new trick he'd learned from House. House's eyes wrinkled and his mouth turned up at the edges in his amusement. He had grown fond of the boy over the course of his visit.

Chase breathed a laugh, and awkwardly but amiably turned to House and extended his hand. "Take care," he said.

"Yeah, you too," House said quietly, well out of his comfort zone.

Chase looked pointedly between him and Cameron and back again, and said to him gravely, "Be good."

House's eyes widened and his mouth turned down in surprise; he was slightly taken aback although the warning was far from confrontational. Cameron shrugged, the gesturing expressing a mixture of mock embarrassment and concession. "You heard the man," she said.

"Yeah, thanks, I'll keep that in mind," House replied caustically.

After a few more words of parting, Chase towed his son out the door. Before Cameron knew what hit her, House had swept her up into his arms and ensnared her lips in a suffocating kiss. Her extra weight set his thigh screaming, but he still carried her to the bedroom without the aid of his cane. He dumped her onto her bed so recklessly that it bounced beneath her. She looked up at him questioningly. There was humor in his eyes, but it was buried deep underneath impatient lust.

"Kid's gone," he explained breathlessly, unclasping his buckle and pulling it through his belt loops with a jarring _swish_. His urgent desire was contagious, and Cameron found herself responding instantly. She pulled him on top of her and they entangled themselves with one another, rolling back and forth over the entire area of her mattress, clutched in a tight embrace. In their state, they had no patience for foreplay, and no interest in drawing out the experience. Instead, they reversed the order—they greedily pounced on one another, and within minutes they had climaxed. It was only after they recovered that they stepped back and slowed down, enjoying softer touches, gentler kisses. After House had satiated his eager lust, his attention shifted to the crook of Cameron's neck. He could feel the _diminuendo ritardando_ of her pounding heartbeat underneath his now-soothing lips. He devoted his senses to it. He strained to listen, to feel it under his mouth even as it relaxed into near-silence. He buried his face in her so that his eyes saw only the rosy whiteness of her skin, which felt velvet-soft beneath his tongue. She smelled of soap and shampoo and warmth. Her hands entwined in his hair and her legs wrapped around his waist. Her eyes were closed. She could feel his current fascination with this part of her body, and was in no rush to direct his attention away from it. His coarse stubble worked in counterpoint to his soft tongue and hot breath. She hummed in contentment and melted into him as his eyelashes brushed against her moist skin. A quarter of an hour passed, and thanks to his curious and creative lips, it was 15 minutes well spent. When his movements did cease, he simply relaxed into his position and continued to breath heavily as his own heartbeat slowed. He let out a vocal sigh.

"I thought that kid would never go."

Cameron laughed silently. "You had fun, admit it."

House scoffed. "Not this much fun."


	74. Chapter 73

**Chapter 73**

"So, fill me in on your family," House said, breaking a delicious post-coital silence. "If I'm going to meet them, I need to know who they are."

"Okay. Get ready, though, there are a lot of names."

"Big family?"

"I have two older brothers and two younger sisters."

"Middle child. Shocker. Go on."

"My oldest brother is Rick. He's 45. His wife is named Carol, and he has 4 kids. Josh is a senior in high school, Rachel is 16, Michelle is 14, and Dan is 11."

"Rick and Carol, Josh, Rachel, Michelle, and Dan. Got it."

"Yeah. Then my other brother's name is Tim, and his wife is Diane. Tim is 41 and he has 3 boys. Alex is 15, and Eric and Tyler are 13—they're twins."

"Rick and Carol, Josh, Rachel, Michelle, and Dan. Tim and Diane, Alex, Eric and Tyler."

"Wow, that's impressive," Cameron complimented. "How can you remember all of this, and still never know a patient's name?"

"I only know if I care," he responded. Cameron rolled her eyes.

"Okay," she said, getting back to business. "My sister Erica is 36 and her husband is Mark Thompson. Get ready. They have seven kids. Their oldest is also named Mark, and he's 14. Maggie's 13, Madelyn's 11, Michael's 10, Matthew's 9, Melanie is 7, and Madison is 4."

House winced. He already couldn't stand the Thompsons. "That's just sick."

Cameron laughed. "Yeah, tell me about it."

With a sigh, House repeated the names of the alliterative Thompson children.

"Right. My youngest sister is 34, and her name is Stephanie. She got married relatively late, by Cameron standards"—House had noticed that her siblings all started procreating in their 20s—"she was 30. Her husband is Joe Reilly, and she has a 2-year-old named Ryan and is pregnant with her second."

"Stephanie and Joe, Ryan and fetus."

"Yep. That's it."

House was quiet for a moment. A pensive look crossed his features as he stared into the distance. "So, you're family really likes kids, huh?"

"Apparently," she laughed.

"So, do they expect you to…?"

"They used to. They'd be thrilled if I did. But I'm 38 years old. I think their hope is fading."

House, still not meeting Cameron's eyes, said huskily, "Do you want to?"

Cameron leaned up on her elbow and twisted her head around to find House's eyes. Once she did, she locked their gaze and pulled his face back toward her. "Greg…"

"Because I really don't want kids," he said softly, nervously. He knew this issue had the potential to be a relationship-breaker. "I don't want to lose you. If you really want kids… you need to tell me."

"Greg…" Cameron began again.

Beyond nervous, House was now frightened. For years, House was so used to shutting himself away from others that he could barely begin to fathom the idea of being in a relationship. And yet, a few short months later, he now found the prospect of being alone utterly terrifying. Unwittingly, he had slowly begun to accept the hand she extended in support and comfort, and he realized only now how much he had come to depend upon it. It was embarrassing; it was weak, but it was true nonetheless. And so, he hastily added, "I mean, I'll do it if you really want it." Even as he said this, his stomach knotted. He knew that being a father was something he was not cut out for, and him screwing up a kid was not a burden he wanted Cameron to have to bear.

"Greg," Cameron said sternly. "Stop talking and listen to me. I am 38 years old. I am a doctor. I am in a relationship I have been waiting for for 10 years. I am not in the market for a kid."

"Not now, but what about next year? Or five years? Or ten years? It's not like you won't be able to. Women in their 40s are spouting out kids like crazy nowadays. Hell, sounds like your one sister's gonna keep going until she goes through every "M" name in recorded history. We're moving in together. In a few years, you're gonna forget that we waited 10 years for each other. It's gonna settle down. If you change your mind…"

"Greg, you're freaking out for no reason. I haven't wanted kids since I took my first biology class! Ever since I've wanted to be a doctor, I knew that it was something that wasn't in my future. I've never wanted kids less than I do right now. I have my hands full enough with you!"

At that, House relaxed and breathed a small laugh. "True." He grew serious once more. "I just… I just don't want you to feel like you're giving anything else up for me."

"Anything else? What do you mean anything else?"

"I mean, a guy who can do anything for you—a guy who doesn't screw up every part of his personal life sooner or later." His eyes met hers with a purpose. "I just don't want you to feel like you've wasted your life with me."

"What the hell is the matter with you, Greg? I thought you were over this."

"Do you think I'll ever be over it?" he asked somewhat defensively. "It's there. It's always gonna be there."

"Greg, you're being absurd. If I didn't have anything else in my life, but I had you, my life wouldn't be wasted. What can't you get that? Why can't you trust me?"

"I trust _you_! I don't trust me." Cameron opened her mouth to speak, but House cut her off, anticipating her next words. "Please, don't tell me that I have to learn to trust myself."

"I wasn't going to. I was going to tell you that I'm prepared to accept that. I hope one day you will learn, but whether you do or not, I'll love you either way."

Her acceptance was so pure, so determined, that it was almost painful for House to bear. He kissed her softly, and responded with silence.

After a few minutes, Cameron spoke. "I can't believe you told me you'd have a kid with me," she said in a slightly joking manner. "Never thought I'd hear that coming from you."

"You tell Wilson, I'll kill you."


	75. Chapter 74

**Chapter 74**

_*Beep* "I'VE LANDED"_

"_OK I'M HERE"_

House waited anxiously for Cameron to deplane. It took forever for the plane even to get to the gate, and then he waited for the parade of exiting passengers to begin. After what seemed like an hour, it began and Cameron was near the front of the procession toting a large duffle bag. Her hair was in a loose ponytail with some unruly strands tucked behind her ears.

"Allison," House called, beckoning to her by lifting one of the Starbucks coffees he held in each hand. She looked around confusedly, trying to find the voice in the crowd on the off chance it really was directed at her. House's mouth twitched into a smile as her face lit up in delighted surprise.

"Greg!" she exclaimed, and ran to meet him with a perceptible spring in her step. She dropped her bag, threw her arms around him, and kissed his cheek exuberantly. He returned the embrace awkwardly, still holding a cup of hot coffee in each hand, while his cane, which had been resting precariously against his hip, clattered to the ground. She pulled away to look at him, her eyes sparkling, then brought her face back to his to kiss him on the mouth. All of a sudden, both of them stumbled back as the crowd began to push past them. Out of necessity, they parted, and House handed Cameron her coffee, picked up his cane, and threw her bag over his shoulder.

"How did you get past security?" Cameron asked breathlessly, excitement coloring her voice.

"Bought a ticket."

"You bought a ticket?"

"To Moline. Cheapest flight there was," he replied, smiling his smug "oh-aren't-I-just-so-clever" smile. "Hold this for a sec," he said, handing Cameron his coffee so he could reach into his coat pocket and pull out a small Starbucks bag containing a blueberry muffin.

"Thank you!" she exclaimed, taking the muffin from him and giving him back his coffee. She nibbled contentedly on her muffin as they walked.

"No problem. I figured they wouldn't serve a meal on your flight, so…"

"They didn't," she said with her mouth full. She swallowed, and continued, "I haven't eaten anything but a tiny bag of airplane pretzels since breakfast. I was starving."

House smiled inwardly, glad she appreciated the gesture and pleased that he knew her well enough to predict what she'd want after her flight.

"So, how was the drive? Your leg holding up?"

"Not too bad. Unfortunately, the Porsche isn't quite as roomy as my last car, so it was a little uncomfortable, but it was fine."

"Well, it's only, like, a half hour to my parents' house, so that won't be too bad."

"Yeah," he assented. They walked together in amiable silence for a few minutes. When they reached the parking garage, House's car was visible in a nearby handicapped parking spot, and he remotely popped open his trunk and threw her bag in the trunk while she walked to the passenger door.

"Want me to drive?" she asked.

"Nah, that's okay," he said, slamming the trunk closed. So she opened the door and entered the car.

"Nice ride," she said when he got in. He smiled. She always said that when she saw his car.

"So, have you started packing yet?" House asked as he wound his way around the aisles in the parking garage.

"Yeah, I'm actually pretty much done," she smiled, blushing. The move wasn't for another two weeks. "I'm a little overexcited. All my furniture is gone."

"So, you didn't want to bring any of it with you? Swap out some of mine? We could redecorate, you know. You can give it the proverbial 'woman's touch.'"

Cameron was looking out the window contentedly, and a small smile pulled at one corner of her mouth as she said, "Nope, don't want to. I've fantasized about your place for years, and now I want to live that fantasy. I hope you haven't changed anything," she warned, turning to him.

"Except for making room in the closet and emptying out half my dresser drawers, it's all the same," he assured her. Cameron turned back to the window and relaxed in her chair. They drove in silence a few minutes longer.

"Rick and Carol," House recited, breaking the silence, "Josh, Rachel, Michelle, and Dan."

"Yep, very good," replied Cameron.

"Tim and Diane, Alex, Eric, and Tyler."

"Mm-hmm."

And so they continued until they pulled up to the house where Cameron grew up.


	76. Chapter 75

**Chapter 75**

It was dark outside when they arrived, but the house and yard were bathed in a gold-tone glow from the garland-adorned streetlight and the white Christmas lights that outlined the shape of the building. It was a charming colonial-style, yellow with black shutters. The house screamed Currier and Ives, and House imagined that it probably invoked thoughts of gingerbread and pine trees and good will even without the Christmas decorations and snow-covered eaves.

Cameron knocked on the front door and then let herself in, House following close behind her, butterflies pounding their wings against the walls of his stomach. The door opened into a small foyer. In front of him were a wooden staircase and a hallway that presumably let to the kitchen. To the left was a small living room, which had a spinet against one wall, and two antique chairs with small cherry wood table between them on the opposite side of the room. Straight through the living room was an arched wall leading into a dining room with a large table, on top of which sat a large candelabra and two smaller candles, set for dinner with beautiful china and silver utensils. In the corner was a table with a bowl of punch and several platters with hors d'oeuvres. Several people were standing around, drinking punch and laughing, and the squeal of excited children drifted down the hall. Every face was flushed with excitement, and every eye glittered in the soft light. House felt a pang in his gut that felt a little bit like sadness at the idyllic scene before him. He had rarely felt so out of place, and had never felt so guilty about marring a perfect picture with his cane, his limp, and the lines on his forehead that were permanent and visible representations of the scowl he wore for so many years. But he hid these unpleasant feelings underneath a calm expression, although he did kick himself for not shaving; it occurred to him that perhaps he would have looked at least a little bit nicer without his unkempt stubble. _Oh, well,_ he thought. _At least Allison likes it._

"Hello!" Cameron called, removing her scarf and hat. The people in the dining room all shrieked with delight and rushed to surround her so that she could spin around to hug them one by one. A stream of people walked down the corridor to wait in line, and House stood awkwardly outside the circle. After everyone received their hugs, Cameron turned back and pulled House to her side, and said, "This is Greg." The mob now lined up in front of him to take turns welcoming him, some with hearty handshakes, and others with embraces and kisses on the cheek. His instinct was to pull away, but he was on his best behavior, so he patiently endured the invasion of his personal space with a polite smile. He could tell who was who immediately from Cameron's descriptions of them. He could have spotted Mark and Erica Thompson a mile away by their matching red Christmas tree sweatshirts with ornaments of actual bells that jingled audibly with every movement.

"Allison!" called an older man's voice approaching them from the hallway. The cluster of people broke up to make room for him to make his way to his daughter to get his hug. As she hugged him, she looked over her shoulder at House to see him roll his eyes and give her his most sincere "you-have-_got_-to-be-kidding-me" look of amused exasperation. She smiled sheepishly at him, having expected that reaction when he saw her father for the first time. He was probably in his late seventies or early eighties, but still remarkably straight and broad, with good posture and impressive biceps. The only sign of any affliction was the cause of House's disbelief, and that was the presence of a pronounced limp in his left leg and the accessory of a polished mahogany cane in his right hand.

"_Messed up,"_ he mouthed to Cameron, laughter and vindication in his eyes. She smiled widely and shrugged slightly in her father's arms, understanding completely the reason for his expression: he just discovered a new piece to her puzzle.

And he was going to have fun with it!


	77. Chapter 76

**Chapter 76**

Cameron and House made their way up the staircase to put their coats on top of the enormous pile on the bed in the designated bedroom.

House opened his mouth to speak with a devious expression on his face.

"Oh—"

"Shut up!" she interrupted him playfully before he could get a word out.

"—My"

"Greg!" she admonished, smiling, but blushing.

"GOD!!!"

Cameron responded by rolling her eyes.

"You are just a first year psych subject incarnate, aren't you?" he mocked, wide-eyed.

"You should talk—you're a first year lit book full of obvious symbolism!" she teased back, indicating his cane.

House shrugged, allowing that, but quickly turned the conversation back to the matter at hand. "Hey, this is about your issues, not mine. So, you've chosen a man exactly like your father. Hmmm… what do you suppose that says about you…?"

"For your information, you are nothing like my father!" she informed him.

"What, 'cause he uses his cane on the other side?" he smirked.

Cameron glared at him jokingly. "You mean the correct side?"

"I mean the _lame_ side. Lame, get it? That was a pun."

"Yeah, also, my dad tells better jokes!"

"No, he doesn't."

"Oh, yeah, how do you know?"

"_Because,_" he said, faking exasperation. "My jokes are hilarious."

"Oh, okay…"

They both started to walk out of the bedroom.

"I can't believe your dad uses a cane," House snickered again as they walked down the stairs. Cameron elbowed him in the ribs.


	78. Chapter 77

**Chapter 77**

As Cameron and House descended the staircase, the soothing din of pleasant conversation crescendoed until they rounded the corner into the living room where it seemed to swallow them up. Once again, House marveled at the happy family. Every glass was full, every mouth turned up in a smile, and every eye twinkled in the soft light. House's attention quickly turned to Mr. Cameron standing next to the piano. He was a fitting patriarch for the Cameron family. His imposing form and upright carriage was almost regal, and there was something about him that attracted others. Maybe it was the kindness in his eyes, or the benevolence of his countenance, or possibly the confidence of his stature or the clear resonance in his voice. Whatever the reason, there was no need for him to make his rounds throughout the room. His family came to him. And when they did, there was a slight expression of awe in their eyes, and it was clear that they valued his love and approval very much.

"Yeah, my dad's pretty remarkable," Cameron said, acknowledging the admiration she saw in House's face as he studied her father. He nodded in agreement. "Let's go talk to him," she urged.

"So, Greg," said Mr. Cameron when they reached him. "I've heard an awful lot about you. Welcome to the Cameron Family Christmas. Everyone's so excited you're here. Allison's never been happier that she has been since you two have been together, so everyone loves you already. I just hope they haven't been coming on too strong. I don't know about you, but I tend to get a little overwhelmed when strangers converge on me in hordes." He laughed.

"Me too," House said, throwing a sidelong glance at Cameron that silently said, "Another similarity. What a coincidence." She pretended not to see. "But your family is really great," House continued.

"Yeah, I lucked out, that's for sure," Mr. Cameron replied, putting his arm around Cameron, but House guessed that luck had a lot less to do with the success of his family than the warm atmosphere he maintained.

"You have a beautiful home," House responded conventionally.

"Thanks. Lived here since before Stephanie was born." Mr. Cameron chuckled. "One thing about me is that I'm pretty uncomfortable with change."

"_Me too_!" House exclaimed, exaggerating each word and looking pointedly at Cameron wearing a mischievous smirk.

Mr. Cameron chuckled again, completely aware of what House was doing to his daughter. "Well," he said good-naturedly, putting his arm around Cameron's shoulders, "I take that as a compliment."


End file.
